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PSYCHOLOGY.: 



INCLUDED IN 

A CRITICAL EXAMINATION OF LOCKE'S ESSAY ON THE HUMAN 
UNDERSTANDING. 



BY VICTbR COUSIN, gXuJ^ 

PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY OF THE FACULTY OF LITERATURE AT PARIS ; PEER OF 
FRANCE ; AND MEMBER OF THE ROYAL COUNCIL OF PUBLIC INSTRUCTION. 



TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH, 
WITH 

AN INTRODUCTION, NOTES, AND ADDITIONS, 

BY €. S. HENRY. 



y^ or THE - — -^ ^ 

'UiriVEESITY 



HARTFORD : 
COOKE AND COMPANY. 

/"l8 34. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1834, by 

COOKE & CO., 
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Connecticut. 



it.rb^h . 



p. CANFIBLD, PRINTSR. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 

It may be proper to say a few words in regard to the portion 
of M. Cousin's Lectures which makes the body of this work, 
and the form in which it is here presented to the public. 

In the year 1829, M. Cousin dehvered a course of Lectures, 
which was published in two volumes octavo, under the title 
of " History of Philosophy in the Eighteenth Century." Of 
this course, the second volume contains an extended critical 
analysis of Locke's Essay on the Human Understanding. 
The Lectures, from the 16th to the 25th inclusive, are taken 
up with this analysis. These are the Lectures of which a 
translation is here given to the public. 

This examination of the Essay on the Human Under- 
standing, is pronounced, by the writer of the article on the 
" Philosophy of Perception," in the Edinburgh Review for 
October 1830, No. 103, Art. IX., p. 191, to be ''the most 
important work on Locke ^ since the Nouveaux Essais of 
Leibnitz^ By those who are acquainted with the article 
referred to, — remarkable alike for philosophical learning, and 
ability of the very first order, — a higher authority cannot well 
be imagined. — Of this same work, the accomplished transla- 
tor of Cousin's " Introduction to the History of Philosophy," 
likewise remarks, that it " must he acknowledged to be 
perhaps the greatest master-piece of philosophical criticism 
ever exhibited to the public.^^ 

The Nouveaux Essais of Leibnitz is, unquestionably, an 
admirable work on Locke ; but it is rarely to be met with, 
and is, besides, impaired by the spirit of a system at the 
present day abandoned. Reid and Kant have also inciden- 
tally given criticisms of Locke, on many important points. A 



regular, complete, and thorough examination, at the pretent 
day, seemed, however, to be needed. This, the work of M. 
Cousin supplies. 

In regard to the form of the work, I have thought it best 
to print the ten Lectures of which the work is composed, as 
so many distinct Chapters : changing the numbering, to give 
it the form of a work by itself. As to the rest, I have aimed to 
give an exact translation, with no other changes than the omis- 
sion of some of the more direct forms of address used by a Lec- 
turer to his audience, and also an explanatory word or clause 
occasionally inserted in brackets. 

In the Appendix, I have brought together, — without any 
pretensions to a regular plan of elucidating the text, and 
without having any particular class of readers in view,— such 
remarks as occurred to me in the progress of preparing the 
work ; and also, extracts from the author's other wTitings, and 
from other sources, — partly as they were indicated by the 
author, and partly as they occurred to my own recollection. 

In the Introduction, I have endeavored to give briefly such 
an account of the Hfe, philosophical labors, and system of M. 
Cousin, and of the connexion of this with his other works, as 
might be interesting and useful to the readers of this volume. 

The whole is committed to the candor of the public, with 
the hope that it may do something to increase the interest in 
these studies, and to promote the great cause of Truth and 
of Science. 

C. S. Henry. 

Hartford^ Ct., September^ 1834. 



CONTENTS. 



Page. 

Introduction, by the Translator, ix 

EXAMINATION OP LOCKE'S ESSAY ON THE UNDERSTANDING. 

CHAPTER 1 5 

(Cours de Phil., Legon 16.) 
General spirit of the Essay on the Human Understanding. — Its Method. 
Study of the Human Understanding itself, as the necessary introduction to 
all true philosophy. — Study of the Human Understanding in its action, in its 
phenomena, or ideas. — Division of the inquiries relating to ideas, and deter- 
mination of the order in which those investigations should be made. To 
postpone the logical and ontological question concerning the truth or falsity 
of ideas, and the legitimacy or illegitimacy of their application to their 
respective objects ; and to concentrate our investigations upon the study of 
ideas in themselves, — and in that, to begin^_bj describing ideas as they 
actually are, and then to proceed to the investigation of their origin. — Ex- 
amination of the Method of Locke. Its merit : he postpones and places 
last the question of the truth or falsity of ideas. Its fault : he entirely 
neglects the question concerning the actual character of ideas, and begins 
with that of their origin. First mistake of Method ; chances of error which 
it involves. General tendency of the School of Locke. — Recapitulation. 

CHAPTER n. .... 27 

(Legon 17.) 
First Book of the Essay on the Human Understanding. Of Innate Ideas. — 
Second Book. Experience, the source of all ideas. Sensation and Reflec- 
tion. — Locke places the developement of the sensibility before that of the 
operations of the mind. Operations of the Mind. According to Locke, 
they are exercised only upon sensible data. Basis of Sensualism. — Exam- 
ination of the doctrine of Locke concerning the idea of Space. — That the 
idea of Space, in the system of Locke, should and does resolve itself into 
the idea of Body. — This confusion contradicted by facts, and by Locke 
himself. — Distinction of the actual characters of the ideas of Body and of 
Space : 1. the one contingent, the other necessary ; 2. the one limited, the 
other illimitable ; 3. the one a sensible representation, the other a rational 
conception. This distinction ruins the system of Locke. Examination of 
the origin of the idea of Space. Distinction between the logical order and 
the chronological order of ideas. — Logical order. The idea of space is the 
logical condition of the idea of body, its foundation, its reason, its origin, 
taken logically. — The idea of body is the chronological condition of the idea 
of space, its origin, taken chronologically. — Of the Reason and Experience, 
considered as in turn the reciprocal condition of their mutual develope- 
ment. — Merit of the system of Locke.— -Its vices: 1. confounds the meas- 
ure of space, with space ; 2. the condition of the idea of space, with the 
idea itself. 



Vi CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER III 41 

(Legon 18.) 
Recapitulation of the preceding chapter. — Continuation of the examination 
of the Second Booii bt' the Essay on the Human Understanding. Of the 
idea of time. — Of the idea of the Infinite. — Of the idea of Personal Identity. — 
Of the idea of Substance. 

CHAPTER IV 79 

(Legon 19.) 
General remarks on the foregoing results.— Continuation of the examina. 
tion of the Second Book of the Essay on the Human Understanding. Of 
the idea of Cause. — Origin in sensation. Refutation. — Origin in reflection 
and the sentiment of the Will. Distinction between the idea of Cause ai d 
the Principle of Causality. — That the principle of causality is inexplicable 
by the sentiment of will. — Of the true formation of the principle of Caus- 
ality. 

CHAPTER V 103 

(Legon 20.) 
Examination of the Second Book of the Essay on the Human Under- 
standing, continued. Of the idea of Good and Evil. Refutation. Conclu- 
sions of the Second Book. Of the formation and of the mechanism of ideas 
in the understanding. Of simple and complex ideas. — Of the activity and 
passivity of the mind, in the acquisition of ideas. — The most general attri- 
butes of ideas.— Of the Association of ideas. — Examination of the Third 
Book of the Essay on the Understanding, concerning vv'ords. Credit due 
to Locke. — Examination of the following questions : 1. Do words derive 
their first origin from other words significant of sensible ideas ? 2. Is the 
signification of words purely arbitrary ? 3. Are general ideas nothing but 
words? Of Nominalism and Realism. 4. Are words the sole cause of 
error ; and is all science only a well-constructed language ? — Examination 
of the Third Book, concluded. 

CHAPTER VI 141 

(Legon 21.) 
Examination of the Fourth Book of the Essay on the Human Understand- 
ing, on Knowledge. — That knowledge, according to Locke, depends : 1. 
upon ideas ; 2. upon ideas, in so far as they are conformed to their objects. — 
That the conformity or non-conformity of ideas with their objects, as the 
foundation of truth or falsehood in regard to knowledge, is not with Locke 
merely a metaphor, but a real theory.— Examination of this theory of ideas, 
1. in relation to the external world, to secondary qualities, to primary 
qualities, to the substratum of these qualities, to space, to time, &c. ; 2. in 
relation to the spiritual world. — Appeal to Revelation. Paralogism of 
Locke. 

CHAPTER VII 163 

( Lee on 22.) 
Reeumption and continuation of the preceding chapter. — Of the idea, not 
now considered in relation to the object which it should represent, but in 
relation to the mind which perceives it, and in which it is found. — The 
idea-image, idea taken materially, implies a material subject; from hence. 
Materialism. — Taken spiritually, it can give neither bodies nor spirit. — 
That the representative-idea, laid down as the sole primitive datum of the 
mind, in the inquiry after reality, condemns us to a paralogism ; since no 



CONTENTS. VU 

representative idea can be decided to represent correctly or incorrectly, 
except by comparing it with its original, with the reality itself, to which, 
however, by the hypothesis, we cannot arrive but by the idea. — That knowl- 
edge is direct, and without an intermediate. — Of judgments, of propositions 
and ideas. — Return to the question of innate ideas. 

CHAPTER VIII. .... 185 

(Leg on 2 3.) 
Examination of the Fourth Book of the Essay on the Understanding con- 
tinued. Of Knowledge. Its modes. Omission of inductive knowledge. — 
Its degrees. False distinction of Locke between knowing and judging. — 
That the theory of knowledge and of judgment in Locke, resolves itself 
into that of a perception of agreement or disagreement between ideas. 
Detailed examination of this theory. — That it applies to judgments abstract, 
and not primitive, but by no means to primitive judgments which imply 
existence. — Analysis of the judgment : I exist. Three objections: 1. the 
impossibility of arriving at real existence By the abstraction of existence ; 
2. that to begin by abstraction, is contrary to the true process of the human 
mind ; 3. that the theory of Locke involves a paralogism. — Analysis of the 
judgments, / think, this body exists, this body is colored, God exists, &.c. — 
Analysis of the judgments upon which Arithmetic and Geometry rest. 

CHAPTER IX. : . . . 211 

( Lecon 24.) 
Continuation of the preceding chapter. That the theory of judgment, as 
the perception of a relation of agreement or disagreement between ideas, 
supposes that every judgment is founded upon a comparison. Refutation of 
the theory of comparative judgment. — Of axioms. — Of identical proposi- 
tions. — Of Reason and of Faith. — Of Syllogism. — Of Enthusiasm. — Of the 
causes of Error. — Division of the Sciences. — Conclusion of the examination 
of the Fourth Book of Locke's Essay. 

CHAPTER X 243 

(LegonZS. ) 
Examination of three important Theories found in the Essay on the Hu. 
man Understanding : 1. Theory of Freedom ; which inclines to Fatalism. 
2. Theory of the Nature of the Soul ; which inclines to Materialism. 3. 
Theory of the Existence of God ; which rests itself almost exclusively upon 
external proofs, drawn from the sensible world. — Recapitulation of the 
whole Examination of the Essay of Locke ; the Merits and the Faults which 
have been pointed out. — Of the spirit which has governed this Examination.— 
Conclusion. 

APPENDIX. 
INDEX TO THE PRINCIPAL NOTES. 



Note A, — Consciousness, 

Note B, — The natural and philosophic consciousness. 
Note C, — Ideology, — M. Destutt de Tracy, 

Note F,~ Of Method, 

Note K, — Royer.Collard, — Origin of the conception of Durati 

Note L, — The idea of the Infinite, 

Note M, — Idea of Substance, — Royer-Collard, . . * 

Note N, — Hume, — Kant, 

Note S, — Cause and Effect, — Brown, .... 
Note U, — Moral Principles, . . , . . 



283 

286 
289 
291 
304 
305 
308 
310 
312 
315 



VlU 



CONTENTS. 



Note V, — Principle of Merit and Demerit, 

Note W, — Foundation of Punishment, . 

Note X, — Divine Justice, 

Note Y, — Divine Government, — Plato, 

Note Z,— Of Language, 

Note AA, — Theory of Perception, 

Note, BB, — Innate Ideas, 

Note CC, — Coincidence of Lord Bacon and Plato, 

The true sense of Cogito, ergo sum^ 
Note DD, — Leibnitz, — Faith and Reason, 
Note FF, — Impersonality of Reason, — Inspiration 
Note KK, — Doctrine concerning the Will and Freedom 
Note MM, — St. Anselm, . . . . , 
Note NN, — The Ionian and Pythagorean Schools, 
Note 00, — Sankhyra of Kapila, .... 
Idea of a System of Metaphysics, 



316 
317 
318 
319 
320 
322 
325 
327 
328 
329 
331 
334 
339 
340 
342 
345 




INTRODUCTION. 

At the time when the influence of the Cartesian philosophy in 
France was giving way to the new spirit of the 18th century, 
nothing was more natural than the ready reception of the system 
of Locke, claiming as it did — and to a certain extent, justly — 
to be a fruit of the movement of independence, and of the experi- 
mental method. Thus put upon the road of Empiricism, the 
activity of the French mind continued to develope its principles, 
and carry out its consequences to their last results. Condillac, 
exaggerating the already partial and defective, and therefore 
erroneous principles of the Empiricism of Locke, rejected reflec- 
tion, or natural consciousness, as one of the sources of knowledge ; 
and analyzed all the phenomena of the mind, into forms of sensa- 
tion. By the admirable logical precision, the clearness and perfect 
system which he gave to his analysis, he became the metaphysi- 
cian and acknowledged chief of this new school ; while Helvetius, 
d'Holbach, and others, carried it boldly out to the Materialism, 
Fatalism, and Atheism, which are its legitimate moral consequences. 
From that period. Sensualism, as a philosophical theory, main- 
tained an almost exclusive predominance. Exceptions to this 
remark are scarcely to be met ; and those that may be regarded 
as such, were merely the fragmentary or inconsequent outbreak- 
ings of a higher inspiration than Sensualism could supply, not the 
regular and scientific exposition of a better system. 

Sensualism was the reigning doctrine. All knowledge and 
truth were held to be derived from Experience ; and the domain 
of Experience was limited exclusively to Sensation. The influ- 
ence of this doctrine extended throughout every department of 
intellectual activity, — Art, Morals, Religion, no less than the physi- 
cal and economical sciences. It became, according to Damiron, 
"a new faith, which was preached by the philosophes, as its 
priests and doctors ; and, among all ranks, and first, among the 

B 



y 



r INTRODUCTION. 

higher orders, including the clergy, it superseded the forgotten or 
ill-taught doctrines of Christianity. It was in all books, in all 
conversations ; and, as a decisive proof of its conquest and credit, 
passed into instruction, and for many years before the Revolution, 
it had taken every where, in the provinces as well as in Paris, the 
place of the old routine of education," 

Subsequently, the exciting and terrific scenes of the Revolution 
occupied all minds : the speculations which had, in no small de- 
gree, prepared the way for those scenes, gave place to the absorb- 
ing interest of that period. Philosophy, in its more extended 
sense, was abandoned ; all speculation was directed towards politi- 
cal theories, to the neglect of science, and even of public instruc- 
tion ; and nothing was done in the cultivation of philosophy, until 
1795. 

At that time, the reign of violence began to give way to some- 
thing like order and repose. With this return to comparative 
quiet, the philosophical spirit began to re-awaken. It was natural, 
however, that this movement should recommence where it had 
been arrested — namely, with Sensualism. 

The instruction at the Normal schools, and the organization of 
the Institute by the Directory, contributed to renew and extend 
the philosophy of Condillac, and to make it in some sort the doc- 
trine of government, the philosophy of the state. During this 
period, we have several works produced in the spirit of the Sensual 
system, — -among the most important of which may be named the 
Rapports du Physique et du Moral of Cabanis, and the Ideology of 
M. Destutt de Tracy ; and, by a strange fortune, the word Ideol- 
ogy became in France the distinctive appellation of the docti*ine of 
exclusive Sensualism. From this time to the Consulate, we may 
trace a lively philosophical activity, though always in the direction 
of SensuaHsm. ■ Hitherto, if any opposition to Sensualism had ap. 
peared, it was indirect and literary, rather than scientific. It may 
be found in writers of sentiment, such as St. Pierre, rather than in 
works of reflection^ 

Thus, up to the time of the Empire, there was in strictness no 
philosophy opposed to the Sensual system. But from this period 
the tokens of a reaction become more distinct. Still, as is entirely 
natural, it manifested itself at first and most clearly in works of 



INTRODUCTION. XI 

imagination and sentiment, in poetry and eloquence, rather than by 
scientific exposition. 

This reaction was favored by Napoleon, though not from any 
sympathy with the direction which the movement against Sensual- 
ism afterwards displayed. From the cast of his mind and habits 
of education, and partly also from motives of policy, the Emperor 
had a strong dislike to all metaphysical and moral speculations, 
and did all in his power to discredit Ideology, which was then the 
exclusive form of speculation. When he reorganized the Institute, 
he excluded that class of studies ; and in every way endeavored 
to repress their pursuit, and to excite the cultivation of the mathe- 
matical and physical sciences. Thus, under the Empire, the phi- 
losophy of Condillac sensibly declined. It no longer produced 
important works, its former authorities lost in credit, and there was 
no longer the brilliant propagation of its doctrines which distin- 
guished the preceding periods. 

There was still another cause of the decline of Sensualism. It 
was in the character of several works written about this period, by 
writers avowedly belonging to the school of Condillac ; but who, 
by the distinctions and modifications which they introduced, actu- 
ally favored a contrary doctrine. Among the most important of 
these works, may be named the Lectures of M. Laromiguiere. 
By distinguishing between the idea and the sensation, he makes 
the latter the matter, and the first the form received ; and this form 
is given by the intellectual activity. This activity is therefore 
admitted as an original attribute of the mind, and a co-ordinate 
source of knowledge ; which is certainly contrary to the exclusive 
origin in sensation. Laromiguiere, therefore, comes much nearer 
in this respect, to Reid, and particularly to Kant, than to his mas- 
ter Condillac. 

A little subsequently to this time, we come to Royer-Collard, 
Distinguished by eminent ability in every department, this cele- 
brated man appeared in open and systematic opposition to Sensu- 
alism. From 1811 to 1814, as the disciple and expounder of 
Reid, he advocated the doctrines of the Scottish philosopher, 
and annihilated the exclusive pretensions of the Sensual school to 
be the last word and highest result of philosophy. The able trans- 
lation of Reid's works, and of Stewart's Outlines of Moral Phi- 
losophy, by Joyffroy, the scholar of Royer-Collard, contributed 



XU INTRODUCTION. 

Still further to extend the reaction against the system of Condillac. 
From the time when Royer-CoUard commenced his lectures to 
the present day, and through the impulse which he imparted, phi- 
losophy has been cultivated with the most lively activity, by many 
of the finest spirits of France. Of these, some, carrying the zeal 
they had imbibed from their master into a still more extended 
sphere, pursued their investigations into the modern German spec- 
ulations, which had already attracted some attention, and exerted 
some influence, through the writings of Madam de Sfael, the expo- 
sitions of Villiers, and others. 

The reign of Sensualism was thus at an end. It came to be 
looked upon with as great a degree of aversion and contempt, as 
it had formerly enjoyed of credit and authority. Its few partizans 
were almost exclusively to be found among the naturalists and 
physicians. In the only important work recently written in the 
interest of Materialism — Sur V Irritation et la Folie, by Broussais — 
the author complains of the injustice and prejudice with which the 
once predominant doctrines of Sensualism are now regarded. In 
truth, nearly all the names of eminence and celebrity in every 
department of intellectual activity, are ranged on the side of a 
spiritual philosophy. Its influence pervades almost all the cele- 
brated works that have appeared for nearly twenty years, in Art, 
in History, and in Literature at large. 

Among- those who imbibed and have contributed to extend the 
spirit of this new activity in philosophy, there is no one who occu- 
pies a more brilliant position, or has exerted a greater influence, 
than Victor Cousin. This celebrated philosopher was bom in 
1791. He received his first instructions in philosophy, it is be- 
lieved, from Royer-Collard, and was for some time his disciple. 
When, on the restoration of the Bourbons, Royer-Collard was 
made Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of France, 
Cousin was appointed adjunct Professor in the same department. 
At first he confined himself to commenting on the views of his 
master ; but soon, extending his studies beyond the limits of the 
Scottish school, he pursued his investigations with indefatigable 
zeal, through the whole field of philosophical inquiry. The ancient 
Grecian systems, — the middle ages, — the modern philosophy com- 
mencing with Descartes, — and, finally, the vast njass of the more 



INTRODUCTION. XIll 

recent German speculations, were explored. While engaged in 
these studies and in the duties of instruction, he was gradually- 
forming the system to which his name is attached, and which has 
been subsequently developed in his lectures and writings. About 
this time he put out an edition of the unpublished works of Proclus, 
in six volumes, from the manuscripts preserved in the Royal Li- 
brary at Paris.* He then commenced a translation of the works 
of Plato, which is still in progress. Of this work, we have re- 
ceived the first eight volumes, which we beheve to be all that have 
yet come from the press. Though traces of his dependence upon 
his German predecessor, Schleiermacher, are visible, yet, still this 
work exhibits admirable original ability on the part of the French 
translator. We know of no individual who could have made the 
French language — the most insufficient of all dialects for the 
higher uses of philosophy — approach so nearly to an adequate 
representation of the infinite variety and delicacy of Plato's Greek. 
To each dialogue, Cousin has prefixed a philosophical argument ; 
and the translation is to be followed by a volume containing the 
life of Plato, and a regular exposition of his system. — To M. 
Cousin we also owe the best, and, we believe, the first complete 
edition of the works of DESCARTES.f 

During the reign of Jesuit ascendency, under the ministry of M. 
de Villele, Royer-Collard and Cousin — both obnoxious to the ultra- 
royalists — were prohibited "from lecturing. This period was pass- 
ed by Cousin principally in retirement and private studies. In 
1826, he published his volume of Philosophical Fragments. About 
this time he travelled in Germany with the young duke of Monto- 
bello, the son of Marshall Lannes. Silenced in his own country 
by the ultra-royalists, his brilliant reputation alarmed the Prussian 
government, which sent police officers into Saxony, and arrested 
him at Dresden. By the interposition of the celebrated Hegel, 
Professor of Philosophy at Berlin, and the personal friend of 
Cousin, he obtained his release. This kindness Cousin acknow- 

* Procli Philosophi Platonici Opera e Codd. Mss. Bihlioih. Reg. Pa. 
risiensis, turn primum edidit, lectionis varietate, et commentariis illustravit 
Victor Cousin &c., Tom. VI., Paris, 1820-— 1827. 

t Oeuvres completes de Descartes, puhliees par Victor Couairit 11 vols., 

8vo., Paris, 1824—1826. 

b2 



XIV INTRODUCTION. 

ledges with great warmth, in his beautiful and elegant dedication to 
Hegel, of the translation of the Gorgias. 

At length, on the overthrow of the Villele administration, Royer- 
Collard was chosen President of the Chamber of Deputies ; and 
Cousin, after eight years of silence, was restored to the chair of 
philosophy. — In 1828, besides giving to the public a volume under 
the title of New Philosophical Fragments, containing many rich 
fruits of his studies in ancient philosophy, and exhibiting additional 
proof of his learning and ability, — he commenced a course of 
lectures, which were published under the title of Introduction to 
the History of Philosophy. This volume has been given to the 
American pubHc, in the spirited and faithful translation of Mr. 
Linberg. 

The next year, (1829,) Cousin pubHshed a translation from the 
German, of Tenneman's Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophie, 
(Sketch of the History of Philosophy,) and delivered a course of 
lectures, which were published in two volumes, under the title of 
History of the Philosophy of the Eighteenth Century. After the 
overthrow of the liberal ministry, and the accession of the ultra- 
royalists to power under Prince Pohgnac, Cousin appears again to 
have fallen under suspicion. A committee was appointed to inquire 
into the character and tendency of his lectures. Of the result of 
this investigation we have never heard, nor whether indeed it ever 
took place. The revolution of 1830, and the change of the French 
dynasty, probably left him to pursue his speculations and in- 
structions,' free from royalist annoyance. Since then, however, 
we know nothing of his philosophical labors, except three volumes 
of the translation of Plato. A new arrangement was made in his 
Professorship, by which M. Jouffroy received the department of 
the History of Modern Philosophy, while Cousin retained that of 
Ancient Philosophy. — Appointed under the new government to a 
place in the Royal Council of Public Instruction, he proceeded, in 
1831, to Prussia to examine the state of education, and institutions 
for general instruction in that kingdom. His Report, published on 
his return, is, we believe, his last work. A translation of it has 
recently been published in England, and the work appears to have 
attracted much attention there as well as in France. M. Cousin 
is still in the vigor of life, and it is to be hoped that he may 
yet contribute much more to the cause of philosophy, and to the 



INTRODUCTION. XV 

interests of truth and science, to which his life has been devoted. 
Eminent abihty and profound learning, when animated by the pure 
and noble spirit which has ever characterized and distinguished 
the labors of M. Cousin, cannot but promote the cause of truth in 
whatever department they are manifested. It is gratifying here 
to adduce the testimony of one of the ablest writers in the Edin- 
burgh Review, who appears indeed in oppositisn to Cousin's sys- 
tem, yet concerning the author, remarks : " He has consecrated 
his life and labors to philosophy, and to philosophy alone ; nor has 
he approached the sanctuary with unwashed hands. The editor 
of Proclus and of Descartes, the translator and interpreter of Plato, 
and the promised expositor of Kant, will not be accused of par- 
tiality in the choice of his pursuits ; while his two works under 
the title of Philosophical Fragments, bear ample evidence to the 
learning, elegance, and distinguished ability of their author. Ta- 
king him all in all, in France, M. Cousin stands alone ; nor can 
we contemplate his character and accomplishments, without the 
sincerest admiration, even while we dissent from almost every 
principle of his philosophy." — The principles of philosophy here 
referred to by this writer, relate mainly to Cousin's solution of the 
problem concerning the positive knowledge of the infinite and 
absolute, by the human mind ; or, in other words, the possibility 
of philosophy, considered as the science of any thing beyond the 
phenomena of our own minds : this is affirmed by Cousin, and 
denied by this writer. 

In regard to the peculiar system of philosophy embraced and 
taught by M. Cousin, the limits of this introduction will admit only 
a very brief and general statement. An extended exposition of 
this system, is not perhaps necessary to the comprehension of the 
portion of his lectures herewith presented to the public ; inasmuch 
as the work consists, almost entirely, of special analyses and criti- 
cal discussions complete in themselves, which may be sufficiently 
judged of from the reader's general acquaintance with philosophi- 
cal language and systems, and from so much of his system as is 
exhibited in them. Indeed, except in his oral instructions, M. 
Cousin has developed his philosophy rather in its applications, by 
history and criticism, than in a full and systematic exposition of its 
principles. Outlines of his system are given in the Programs of 
some of his courses of lectures published in the Philosophical 



XVI INTRODUCTION 

Fragments, They contain, however, barely the briefest indica- 
tions. The reader will find a part of one of these programs 
printed at the end of this volume. A little fuller exposition of the 
fundamental principles of this system, may be found in the Preface 
to the Fragments, and also in the Introduction to the History of 
Philosophy, Lectures 4th, 5th, and 6th, to which the reader is 
referred. 

The system of M. Cousin has received the appellation of Eclec- 
ticism. By this, however, the doctrines of New Platonism are 
not to be understood, as has been nevertheless very erroneously 
stated.* Neither is it a Syncretism, or gross mixture of all sys- 
tems, — the impracticable project of conciliating all doctrines and 
opinions, which can only result in the confusion of inconsistent 
principles, without any scientific unity and connexion. On the 
contrary, it is a distinct scientific theory, — having its method, its 
principle, and its consequences. So far from being an arbitrary 
selecting and bringing together of doctrines and notions on the 
grounds of taste and preference, its processes are, throughout, 

* North American Review for July, 1829, p. 70. The statement made 
by the Reviewer is contradicted by the whole tenor of M. Cousin's 
criticism of New Platonism, contained in the Histoire de la Philos. au 
18me Siecle, {Cours de Philosophic for 1829,) Vol. I. p. 317—332.— 
Cousin there shows that the Alexandrine school, with the pretension and 
name of being a system of Eclecticism, was actually and distinctively a 
system of Mysticism, one of the four great systems under which he classes 
all the phitosophical schools. As such, he proceeds to subject it to the 
criticism of his own principles, as distinct and different. He developes its 
essential traits, its principle and its consequences ; shows that, as a system 
of Mysticism, its philosophy is distinctively religious ; the heart of the sys- 
tem is its theodicy, or doctrine concerning the divine nature ; there is its 
principle ; its analysis, its psychology, and even its physics, are all made 
for and in the interest of its theology; that its principle " contains a funda- 
mental error," — involving a perversion of the true idea of God, and leading 
to all those mystical doctrines and practices of theurgy, incantation, magic, 
&c., which the Reviewer talks of Cousin's having ♦« taken under his peculiar 
patronage." — It is but fair, however, to state, that the Reviewer could not 
have seen the work of Cousin which has just been referred to, as it had not 
probably then been published. Still, with the other writings of Cousin in 
his hands, it is scarcely less remarkable that he should have fallen into such 
an error. It is only another instance of the influence of casual associations. 
The writer had probably been always in the habit of connecting the word 
Eclecticism with the doctrines of the Alexandrine or New Platonic school. 



INTEODUCTION. XVU 

strictly scientific and critical. Its eclectic character consists pre- 
cisely in the pretension of applying its own distinctive principles 
to the criticism of all other systems, — discriminating in each its 
part of truth and its part of error, — and combining the part of 
truth found in every partial, exclusive, and therefore erroneous 
system, into a higher, comprehensive system. — The following brief 
sketch, selected from different places in the author's writings, and 
expressed nearly in his own language, may perhaps give the 
reader a general notion of this system. 

In the psychological analysis of M. Cousin, all the facts of hu-1 
man consciousness are reduced to three classes, — sensible, volun- 
tary, and rational. 

The first and the last have the characteristic of necessity ; those 
of the will alone are personal and imputable. Personality belongs 
solely to the will ; and self is the centre of the intellectual sphere. 
The will does not create the two classes of sensible and rational 
phenomena ; we find ourselves between these two orders of facts, 
which we perceive only by separating and distinguishing ourselves 
from them. Moreover, we perceive by a light which comes not 
from ourselves ; for our personality is our will, and nothing more. 
All light comes from the reason, and it is the reason that perceives 
both itself, and the sensibility which envelopes it, and the will also 
upon which it imposes obligation, though without constraining it. 
The element of cognition is, by its essence, rational ; and con- 
sciousness, though composed of three integrant and inseparable 
elements, has its most immediate foundation in reason, without 
which there would be no possible knowledge, and consequently no 
consciousness. The Sensibility is the external condition of con- 
sciousness : the Will is its centre ; and Reason its light. 

In falling back upon our consciousness, we find that the relation 
of its three elements, the mtelligence, the activity, and the sensi- 
bility, is so intimate, that when one of these elements is given, the 
two others enter into exercise, and this element is the activity. 
Without the free activity, or the self, there is no consciousness ; 
that is to say, the two other phenomena, whether they take place 
or not, are as though they were not in respect to the self, the me, 
which as yet is not. Now the me exists for itself, perceives and 
can perceive itself, only by distinguishing itself from sensation, 
which latter is likewise thereby alone perceived, and thereby be- 



XVm INTRODUCTION. 

comes a part of the consciousness. But as the me cannot perceive 
itself and perceive the sensation, but by the reason or inteUigence, 
the necessary principle of all perception, it follows, that the exer- 
cise of the reason is contemporaneous with the exercise of the per- 
sonal activity and sensible impressions. The triplicity of con- 
sciousness, the three elements of which are distinct, and cannot be 
reduced to each other, reduces itself, therefore, to a single fact ; 
while again, the unity of consciousness exists only under condition 
of this triplicity. 

Passing over M. Cousin's analysis of the sensibility and of the 
activity, we come to that of the reason, or intelHgence, in which, 
and in its consequences, the original pretensions and distinguishing 
peculiarity of his system are found. 

In reason, or intelligence, considered as one of the three ele- 
ments which meet in the unity of consciousness, analysis likewise 
discovers three integrant elements, or laws of thought, which are 
at once the reason itself, and which determine its manifestations. 
These three elements are inseparable, equally essential and primi- 
tive. — The Jirst of these elements Cousin expresses indifferently 
as the idea of unity, identity, substance, absolute cause, the infinite, 
&;c. All these expressions relate to an idea fundamentally one. — 
The second, he calls the idea of plurality, difference, phenomenon, 
relative cause, the finite, &c. These terms likewise express an 
idea essentially the same. These two elements are reciprocally 
correlatives. The one is the antithesis of the other, and they both 
necessarily co-exist in the reason. — The third, is the relation be- 
tween the first and second terms, between the infinite and the 
finite. This relation is not simply that of inseparable co-existence ; 
they are connected as cause and effect. The first term, though 
absolute, exists not absolutely in itself, but as an absolute cause, 
which must pass into action, and manifest itself in the second. 
The finite cannot exist without the infinite, and the infinite can 
only be realized by developing itself in the finite. 

These three elements are found in the unity of reason. They 
are given inseparably in the primitive synthesis of thought. As 
inseparable, universal, and necessary, they are the integrant laws 
of intelligence, which constitute its nature, and preside over all its 
manifestations. The idea of the finite, of the infinite, and of their 
necessary connexion as cause and effect, meet in every act of 



INTRODUCTION. XlX 

intelligence, nor is it possible to separate them from each other ; 
though distinct, they are bound together, and constitute at once a 
triplicity and a unity. 

Reason, which manifests itself in these three ideas, is not indi- 
vidual nor personal. What is personal to us, belongs to our will, 
to our free activity. But reason, constituted and governed by 
these necessary and absolute conceptions, is not an integrant part 
of our personality ; it is not ours ; it is not even human ; it ap- 
pears in, and governs humanity, and is human only in this relation. 
In its essence it is absolute, it is divine. The ideas which appear 
in, and govern the human intelligence, taken absolutely as they 
must be, are referable only to the absolute subject and substance 
of them, to the eternal reason. They are nothing else than the 
modes of the existence of the eternal reason. We therefore see 
by a light which is not our own. These ideas in the human intel- 
ligence, are a manifestation of the absolute intelligence, and a true 
revelation of the divine in the human. 

The divine nature, therefore, as essentially intelligent, is essen- 
tially intelligible ; for that which is true of reason as appearing in 
man, is true of reason taken absolutely. That which forms the 
foundation of our reason, forms the foundation of eternal reason : 
that is a triplicity which resolves itself into unity, and a unity 
which developes itself into triplicity. 

Creation is therefore comprehensible and necessary ; for crea- 
tion is nothing else than the necessary developement of the infinite 
in the finite, of unity in variety, and that in virtue of the third 
element which binds the two other terms together, and in which 
both are realized. God, being substance and cause, — being sub- 
stance as cause, and cause as substance, that is, being absolute 
cause as well as intelligence, cannot but manifest himself. This 
manifestation is creation, the developement of the infinite in the 
finite, of unity in plurality. Creation is necessarily implied in the 
idea of God, and the world, the universe, is the necessary effect 
of the divine existence and manifestation. God is thus every- 
where, and in all. The universe is but a reflection of his being, 
a developement of his existence. 

Grod is not, however, to be confounded with the universe, n^r is 
God the mere anima mundi : God is the cause, the universe is the 
effect. In order to see the true relation between God and the 



XX INTRODUCTION. 

world, we must distinguish between the necessary manifestation of 
Grod in the world, and the subsistence of his divine essence in 
itself; for while, on the one hand, it is absurd to suppose that God, 
in manifesting himself, should not in some sort transfer himself into 
his manifestation, it is, on the other, equally absurd to suppose that 
the principle of that manifestation should not still retain all the 
superiority of a cause to its effect. While, therefore, the universe 
is a reflection, it is still an imperfect reflection of God ; and the 
absolute divine subsistence still remains distinct from, and unex- 
hausted by, the creation, which was the passing into activity, of 
that exhaustless power in which we perpetually live, and move, 
and have our being. 

The world is also governed by the same principles which de- 
termined its creation. Two laws, and their connexion in perpet- 
ual reaction, govern and explain the material world. These two 
laws are expansion and attraction. The law of expansion is the 
evolution of unity to variety ; the law of attraction, the resolution 
of variety into unity. 

The same analogy is found in the human mind. As in nature 
two laws and their connexion govern and explain the material 
universe, so in consciousness, two ideas and their relation govern 
and explain the world of thought. In humanity, the constituent 
elements of all existence are brought under the eye of conscious- 
ness. The study of consciousness is the study of humanity. The 
study of consciousness is Psychology ; and as man is the micro- 
cosm of existence, psychology envelopes all science. Psychology 
contains and reflects every thing, — both that which is of God and 
that which is of the world. As in nature, all the phenomena of 
the outward world may be reduced to one fundamental fact, com- 
posed of three elements, namely, two great laws and their neces- 
sary connexion, so in the internal world, all its phenomena may 
be reduced to one fundamental fact of consciousness, consisting of 
three elements, namely, two ideas and their connexion and corre- 
lation. 

The fundamental fact of consciousness is a complex phenomenon, 
composed of three terms : first, the me and the not me, limited and 
finite ; then, the idea of something difierent from these, the unlim- 
ited, the infinite ; and third, the relation of the finite to the infinite 
which contains and unfolds it. These three terms universally and 



INTRODUCTION. XXI 

necessarily meet in every act of consciousness. We find there 
the consciousness of self, as distinguished from the not-self, and of 
both as finite. But at the same instant, we are and must be con- 
scious of something infinite, which contains and explains the finite ; 
of something which is substantial as that is phenomenal ; which 
comprehends both the me and the not-me ; and finally, connecting 
the two terms, the infinite and the finite, under the principle of 
causality, we do and must regard the former as a cause, and con- 
sequently in its nature an infinite cause. This is God. — Thus 
consciousness has three momenta ; and is like nature, of which it 
is the complement, and like the divine essence, which it manifests. 
We now come to an important point — the fundamental peculi- 
arity of M. Cousin's system : this is the two-fold developement of 
reason. — The three elements which constitute and govern the 
reason are all given in consciousness. But how are they given ? 
In the developed state of human intelligence, reflection, falling back 
upon the consciousness, finds there the idea of the finite, of the 
infinite, and of their relation. The finite supposes the infinite, and 
the infinite supposes the finite ; when one is given, the other is 
equally given ; nor is their denial possible. Pronounce the name 
of the one, and that of the other is irresistibly suggested, because 
the idea which it represents enters irresistibly along with the for- 
mer into the consciousness. — Such is the fact demonstrated by 
reflection, in the present developed state of the intelligence. But 
how were these elements originally given? Not by reflection. 
Reflection can only add itself to that which was ; as a voluntary 
act, it falls back upon that which is, reviews, analyzes, distin- 
guishes, throws light upon it ; but it does not create the elements 
to which it applies itself. The human mind does not therefore 
commence by reflection ; the first act of intelligence is not an act 
of reflection. Reflection itself supposes an operation anterior to 
itself; by which, moreover, must be given all the terms that form 
the basis of subsequent reflection. But what is the nature of this 
operation 1 As it is not of reflection, it is not of the will or volun- 
tary activity. It is therefore an instinctive developement of 
thought : and as the intelligence does not commence by negation, 
this primitive, original act of intelligence is an instinctive percep- 
tion of truth, an immediate intuition, and a pure affirmation. — Such 
is the result of logic applied to the fact of reflection ; but a pro- 
c 



XXll INTRODUCTION. 

found and penetrating observation may verify the results of logical 
deduction, may in some sort detect immediately in the conscious- 
ness, the traces of this primitive act of intelligence anterior to all 
reflection. 

Cousin thus asserts a two-fold developement of reason or intel- 
ligence : the first primitive, unreflective, instinctive ; the second 
ulterior, reflective, voluntary. The former he terms spontaneous 
reason, spontaneity of reason, or briefly, spontaneity ; the latter, 
reflective reason, reflection of reason, or briefly, reflection. By 
the spontaneity of reason, is meant " that developement of reason 
anterior to reflection, that power of reason to seize upon truth at 
first sight, to comprehend it, and to admit it, without asking or 
giving an account of its doing so." 

In this distinction between spontaneous and reflective intelli- 
gence ; in the recognition of the former as anterior to, and suppo- 
sed by, the latter — as containing the three great elements of 
thought — and immediately and positively cognizant of the infinite, 
no less than of the finite ; — it is here that we find the principle 
which, with its consequences, constitutes and determines the pe- 
culiar system of M. Cousin. — We will briefly explain. 

All the elements of truth are given in every act of primitive, 
spontaneous consciousness. But as they are given anterior to all 
reflection, and without any negation, they are given blended ob- 
scurely, and without contrast, in the primary synthesis of thought. 
Yet still they are revealed in themselves and in their relations, in 
every act of original instinctive apperception. They are revealed : 
the first act of intelligence is an act of faith, of faith in the absolute 
reason by which they are revealed. The spontaneous reason is 
not individual nor personal ; it is not human, except as revealed 
in man ; in itself it is impersonal, divine. It is the Logos, the 
Word of St. John, which " lighteth every man that cometh into the 
world:" ^^illuminat omnem hominem venientem in hunc mundum" 
In this sense it is, that reason is that which, developing itself in 
man, reveals to us from on high the truths which it imposes upon 
us immediately, and which, originally, we accept at once, without 
consulting reflection. It is this admirable and incontestible phe- 
nomenon which identifies reason and faith with the primitive, irre- 
sistible, spontaneous, and unreflective apperception of truth. 



INTRODUCTION. XXllI 

Subsequently comes reflection, which, applying itself to the 
elements given in spontaneity, analyzes and discriminates the facts 
contained in the primitive synthesis, recognizes their characteris- 
tics, and receives these fundamental elements of thought as ideas, 
laws, principles, or categories. These are the philosophical terms ; 
the element of philosophy is reflection. But what is the original 
source of these categories ? It is the spontaneous intuition ; the 
first form in which they appear is not that of reflection, but of 
spontaneity. But as reflection cannot apply itself to more than 
was given in spontaneity ; as analysis cannot give more than the 
primitive synthesis which it analyzes ; therefore the categories in 
their developed and scientific form, can contain nothing that was 
not given enveloped and unreflected in the spontaneous reason. 
But these categories, though they have their source and foundation 
in the primitive consciousness, receive their distinct recognition and 
form by analysis, that is, by reflection. But the constituent ele- 
ment of reflection is the will, the personality ; it is ourselves. The 
categories obtained by reflection, have consequently the appear- 
ance of being personal, as having truth and reahty only relative 
to the mind. Here is found the secret of Kant's mistake, and 
the vice of his system. Kant has distinguished the great constitu- 
ent laws of thought — which he calls categories — from every 
thing derived from sensation, from every empiric element ; he has 
enumerated and classified them ; he has ascribed to them an irre- 
sistible force in the mind ; — yet, overlooking the spontaneous 
action of reason, and regarding reflection not merely as recogni- 
zing and giving form to, but also as the source of, these categories, 
he has, from the evident personality of reflection, been led to the 
conclusion that these laws, though irresistible, are merely personal ; 
true relative to the human mind, but not the ground of absolute 
certainty beyond the sphere of the human mind. In the view of 
Kant, as it is we ourselves that furnish the form of our conscious- 
ness, these laws are purely subjective ; that is, all that is conceived 
by us as necessary and universal, is so only relative to our per- 
sonal reason, but without any objective reality ; the certainty of 
any corresponding objective reality is not grounded in these laws. 
If we think so, we arbitrarily make objective the subjective laws 
of our own thought ; but do not thereby legitimately arrive at any 
thing truly objective. Now if the laws of thought were purely 



XXIV INTRODTJCTION. 

subjective, we should have no right to transfer them beyond the 
sphere of our own consciousness ; in their utmost reach they could 
engender only irresistible convictions, but never independent truth : 
Nature and God may be objects of our faith, but not objects of 
knowledge. Thus Kant comes out to absolute scepticism, in re- 
gard to ontology, — a scepticism against which he finds no refuge, 
except in the sublime inconsistency of giving to the laws of the 
practical reason, more of objective validity than to those of the 
speculative reason ; — an inconsistency which Ficiite dem.onstrated 
and demolished, by showing the practical reason to have no more 
objective validity than the speculative.* Thus Kant failed in his 
solution of the grand problem of philosophy. 

* The following remarks on the use of the terms objective and subjective^ 
are from the Edinburgh Review, October 1829, p. 196, Note. " In the phi- 
losophy of mind, subjective denotes what is to be referred to the thinking 
subject, the Ego ; objective, what belongs to the object of thought, the Non 
Ego. It may be safe, perhaps, to say a few words in vindication of our 
employment of these terms. By the Greeks, the word ^vnoKtiittvov was 
equivocally employed to express either the object of knowledge, (the materia 
circa quam,) or the subject of existence, (the materia in qua.) The exact 
distinction of subject and object was first made by the schoolmen ; and to 
the schoolmen the vulgar languages are principally indebted for what pre- 
cision and analytic subtilty they possess. These correlative terms corres- 
pond to the first and most important distinction in philosophy ; they embody 
the original antithesis in consciousness of self and not self, — a distinction 
which, in fact, involves the whole science of mind ; for psychology is nothing 
more than a determination of the subjective and objective in themselves, and 
in their reciprocal relations. Thus significant of the primary and most 
extensive analysis in philosophy, these terms, in their substantive and adjec- 
live forms, passed from the schools into the scientific language of Tilesius, 
Campanella, Berigard, Gassendi, Descartes, Spinosa, Leibnitz, Wolf, &c. 
Deprived of these terms, the critical philosophy, indeed the whole philosophy 
of Germany, would be a blank. In this country, though familiarly employed 
in scientific language, even subsequently to the time of Locke, the adjective 
forms seem at length to have dropped out of the English tongue. That 
these words waxed obsolete, was perhaps caused by the ambiguity which 
had gradually crept into the signification of the substantives. Object, besides 
its proper signification, came to be abusively applied to denote motive, end, 
final cause, (a meaning not recognized by Johnson.) This innovation was 
probably borrowed from the French, in whose language the word had been 
similarly corrupted, after the commencement of the last century. (Diet, de 
Trevoux, voce Objet.) Subject in English, as sujet in French, had been 
also perverted into a synonyme for object, taken in its proper meaning, and 



INTRODUCTION. XXV 

M. Cousin thinks he finds the true solution in the distinction 
between the spontaneous and reflective reason. In the intimacy 
of consciousness, at a depth to which Kant had not penetrated, and 
beneath the apparently relative and subjective character of the 
necessary principles of the intelligence, may be found, according 
to him, the instantaneous but real fact of a spontaneous appercep- 
tion of truth, a cognition which, not instantly reflecting itself, takes 
place unnoticed in the depths of consciousness, but yet is there, 
and is the true basis of that which, subsequently, under a logical 
form, by reflection, becomes a necessary truth. The subjective, 
along with the reflective, altogether expires in the spontaneous 
apperception. Reason indeed becomes subjective in its relation to 
reflection, to the free and voluntary self, the seat and type of all 
personality ; but in itself, and in spontaneity, it is impersonal, ex- 
empt from individuality ; it does not even belong to humanity ; 
consequently, its laws rest upon no basis but themselves ; they 
appear in, preside over, and govern humanity, but belong not to 
it. Nothing is less personal than reason, particularly in sponta- 
neous, pure affirmation ; nothing therefore is less subjective ; and 
the truths which are thus given us, are absolute truths. 

The distinction between spontaneous and reflective reason, ex- 
plains likewise the identity and diversity of humanity, — and the 
history of the World and of philosophy. Spontaneity is the ele- 
ment of agreement ; reflection, of difference. Men agree in spon- 
taneity; they differ only in reflection. In its instinctive and 
spontaneous form, reason is every where the same and equal to 
itself, in all generations of humanity, and in all the individuals that 
compose them. All thought necessarily includes a primitive syn- 
thesis of its three necessary and inseparable elements. Faith in 



had thus returned to the original ambiguity of the corresponding term in 
Greek. It is probable that the logical appUcation of the word (subject of 
predication) facilitated or occasioned this confusion. In using the terms, 
therefore, we think that an explanation, but no apology, is required. The 
distinction is of paramount importance, and of infinite application, not only 
in philosophy proper, but in grammar, rhetoric, criticism, ethics, politics, 
jurisprudence, theology. It is adequately expressed by no other terms ; and 
if these did not already enjoy a prescripiive right, as denizens of the lan- 
guage, it cannot be denied, that, as strictly analogical, they would be well 
entitled to sue ou heir naturalization." 
c2 



XXVI INTRODUCTION. 

God is the necessary faith of the human race : Atheism, in strict- 
ness, has no existence. It is nothing but an individual madly 
opposing his will to his reason. — The identity of spontaneity, to- 
gether with the identity of the truths it engenders, constitutes the 
identity of the human race. Spontaneity gives pure truth, and in 
all men the same truth. Reflection, as the element of difference, 

■ is the source of diversity and of error. Reflection, in analyzing 
the different elements of which the primitive synthesis of thought 
is composed, may attach itself to one or the other of these ele- 
ments, exclusively, or with various degrees of partiality. Hence 
the errors, and the diversity of errors, that have prevailed in the 
world : hence the variety of individuul opinions and characters. 
They arise from the partial, exclusive, and various developement 
of reflection. — What reflection is to the individual, history is to the 
race. Hence the distinguishing character of different epochs in 
the history of mankind, is found in the predominance of some one 
element of intelligence. But as there are only three such ele- 
ments, there are three, and only three, grand epochs in the history 
and developement of mankind. — The principles already announced, 
likewise apply to the history of philosophy, — which discovers the 
successive developement and predominance of the essential ele- 
ments of intelligence ; and the diversity of their developement, by 
reflection, in various systems. The vantage ground afforded by 
these principles, enables us to discover the part of error and the 
part of truth in each partial and exclusive system, which, as founded 
on an exclusive view of the elements ofintelhgence, is necessarily 
erroneous, and at the same time, as involving some one of those 
elements, necessarily has its part of truth. 

Such, briefly, is the system of M. Cousin. It will be perceived, 

^-^t once, that the grand peculiarity of it consists in the solution, 
and in the mode of solution, of the question concerning the objec- 
tive and absolute in regard to human knowledge ; in other words, 
the possibility of philosophy, except as the science of the subjec- 
tive and relative. This is indeed the great problem of philosophy ; 
and the distinctive character of every system is determined by its 
solution of this problem. 

The Sensual system, deducing all thought and all knowledge 
from sensation, cannot of course find the infinite : it reduces it to 
the fijiite, confounds it with the finite, and by confounding destroys ; 




INTRODUCTION. XXVll 

and, according as it is more or less consequent, denies, or admits 
by an inconsistency. The true solution of the universe, by this 
system, is in the finite, and in one term of it, namely, matter. It 
cannot however rest even in this solution ; in its last logical con- 
sequences it destroys itself, by going out into absolute nihilismj^fe^o r 

The Scottish school of Reid and Stewart, distinguish^'^^* 
recognized the element of the intelligence, confounded by 
ism ; and vindicated for it a subjective reality, under th 
constituent laws of the human mind, or principles of co!^nion 
sense. Their enumeration is arbitrary, and their reduction in- 
complete. Their solution of the infinite is properly only subjec- 
tive. The result of their principles gives it as a necessary 
conviction, an irresistible belief, which, however — though purely 
subjective, having a necessity relative only to the human mind in 
reflection — was postulated as justifying the assertion of a corres- 
ponding objective reality, although it cannot be made the object of 
immediate knowledge. — Kant completely enumerated the ele- 
ments of the human intelHgence ; his reduction, however, is im- 
perfect. But in regard to the absolute, the infinite, as has been 
seen, he made it merely a regulative principle of thought, denied 
explicitly the possibility of any knowledge beyond the science of 
the subjective ; he denied also that the subjective, considered 
merely as intelligence, afforded any ground for the assertion of a 
corresponding objective reality. God is a necessary conception, 
an object of invincible faith ; but the only legitimate ground for 
this faith is the moral interest of the practical reason. This, how- 
ever, cannot be taken as a scientific basis : considered as such, it 
is equally subjective as the regulative principles of the speculative 
intelligence, and equally liable to the objections which he urges 
against the latter, when applied beyond the limits of conscious- 
ness. — Thus, that which was already subjective in the timid and 
inconsequent Idealism of the Scottish school, becomes more deci- 
sively subjective in the Idealism of Kant ; and neither of them 
establish the infinite as an object of knowledge. 

This Cousin attempts to do, in the manner already explained. 
He joins with Schelling, against Kant, in denying the personal and 
subjective nature of intelligence, and in asserting for philosophy a 
positive science of the infinite, immediately known by the intelli- 
gence as impersonal and divine. But while Schelling, if we do 



XXVlll INTRODUCTION. 

not mistake him, denies this knowledge to the consciousness, and 
refers it to a capacity for knowledge above consciousness, which 
is the absolute identity of being and knowing, of the finite and the 
infinite — Cousin maintains that consciousness is necessarily im- 
plied in intelligence, and that the knowledge of the infinite is given 
in the spontaneous consciousness as above explained. 

Concerning the success of M. Cousin's attempt to fix the infinite 
as a positive in knowledge, and concerning the possibility of any 
solution of this problem, different opinions may be entertained. 
But whatever may be thought in regard to these points, a high 
interest attaches to M. Cousin's labori^, as an expounder of the 
history of philosophy. His profound and accurate acquaintance 
with the whole range of philosophical learning, his exact and just 
comprehension of philosophical doctrines and sys-tems, and his lu- 
cid and faithful exposition of them, will certainly be appreciated 
by all competent judges. In general critical ability, and particu- 
larly in the talent for analysis, he has few equals. 

We pass now to give some account of the course of lectures on 
the History of Philosophy in the Eighteenth Century, of which this 
volume contains a part. It must, however, be limited to the brief- 
est indications. 

Having, in his Introduction to the History of Philosophy, ex- 
plained the scope and method, the system and general spirit of his 
instruction, M. Cousin proceeds, in the lectures on the philosophy 
of the 18th century, to elucidate, extend, and confirm the historical 
principles before developed, by applying them to the 18th century. 
It is his principle, that the philosophy of an age proceeds from all 
the elements of which the age is composed ; hence the necessity 
of studying the philosophy of the 18th century, first in the general 
history of that period. 

The general character of the 18th century resembles that of 
the two preceding centuries, inasmuch as it continues the charac- 
teristic movement of that period ; it differs from it, only as it de- 
velopes that movement on a larger scale. The Middle Ages was 
the reign of authority — every thing was fixed and controlled ; the 
16th and 17th centuries commenced a new movement, in the spirit 
of independence ; it was the age of conflict and revolution. The 
16th and 17th centuries undermined and shook the middle ages. 
The mission of the 18th century was to continue and complete 



INTRODUCTION. XXix 

that movement, — to overthrow and put an end to the middle 
ages. 

This mission determines the general spirit of the 18th century. 
This spirit is displayed in all the great manifestations of the age — 
political — moral — rehgious — literary — and scientific. In all 
these respects, there is a diminution of the powers and influences 
which predominated in the middle ages ; and, finally, the exten- 
sion and predominance of new and unknown powers and influences. 
The spirit of the 18th century is a spirit of independence, of scru- 
tiny, of analysis, in regard to all things. This movement began 
obscurely, and proceeded with a comparatively slow and latent 
progress at first, but with a constantly accelerating march towards 
the close of the period. 

The general character of the philosophy of the 18th century is 
determined by the general character of the period. The philoso- 
phy of this epoch likewise continues, developes, and completes the 
philosophical movement of the former period. This movement 
was in the reaction against the spirit of authority in philosophy 
which predominated in the middle ages. This reaction — which 
began in the 16th century, by the springing up of the spirit of 
independence ; and which continued with increasing strength du- 
ring the 17th — gains the victory in the 18th ; completes and puts 
an end to the middle ages in the matter of philosophy. The 16th 
century was, to this philosophical revolution, what the 15th was 
to the religious reformation ; — a period of necessary preparation, 
filled with struggles, and often with unsuccessful struggles, against 
the predominant spirit of authority ; and, like that, it had its mar- 
tyrs. Bruno and Vanini were the Huss and Jerome of this philo- 
sophical revolution. The 16th century was a blind attack upon 
the principle of authority, as it existed in the Scholastic philoso- 
phy. The 17th century renewed the conflict, established the 
revolution, and destroyed Scholasticism. — The mission of the 18th 
century was to continue and consummate this revolution, by over- 
throwing the general spirit of authority in philosophy, and estab- 
lishing the general spirit of independence. In fact, it generalized 
the conflict of the preceding period ; propagated the spirit of in- 
dependence in every direction of thmking ; and, finally, established 
philosophy as a distinct and independent power. 



XXX INTRODUCTION. 

Thus the general mission of the 18th century was to continue 
and complete the movement of independence, begun in the two 
preceding centuries ; and to put a final end to the middle ages in 
every thing, — politics, life, art, and science. 

Analagous to this, the special mission of philosophy in the 18th 
century, was to complete the movement before begun therein, to 
put an end to the middle ages in regard to philosophy, by destroy- 
ing, in this respect, the principle of authority, and circumscribing 
it within its proper limits, those of theology. 

Now this was a complex and laborious task, mixed with results 
of good and of evil. The reaction against authority might go too 
far : freedom is liable to be pushed to licentiousness ; and while the 
object is to reduce religious authority within its legitimate sphere^ 
namely, theology, theology itself may be attacked. Instances 
of this occur in the philosophy of the 18th century ; still, a large 
share of the most illustrious names are no less distinguished for a 
profound submission and respect to religion, than by the spirit of 
independence in regard to philosophy. 

Next comes the consideration of the method of philosophy in the 
18th century. The middle ages was the reign of Hypothesis. 
The 16th century was a sort of insurrection of the new spirit 
against the old, and could not organize itself and take the form 
£ind consistence of an established method. But in the 17th cen- 
tury, the true Method began to be formed under Bacon and Des- 
cartes ; ihough in the latter it ran out at last into hypothesis. In 
the 18th century, the question concerning method became the fun- 
damental question. In this century was completed the triumph 
of the method of experiment over hypothesis ; its triumph, that is, 
in regard to its principle, namely, analysis. Analysis was gene- 
rahzed, extended every where, and established as an exclusive 
power in philosophy. — The triumph of analysis has likewise its 
part of good and its part of evil. Its good is found in the destruc- 
tion of hypothesis, and of false synthesis, and in a vast collection 
of accurate experiments and observations. Its evil is found in the 
neglect of synthesis, which is, equally with analysis, an element of 
the true experimental method. 

Then follows a view of the different systems of philosophy em- 
braced in the 18th century. These systems are the same as those 
of the two preceding centuries ; neither more nor less. The only 



INTRODUCTION. XXXI 

difference is, that the philosophy of the 18th century developes 
these systems in grander proportions, and on a larger scale. They 
are the same systems, moreover, which are to be found in the 15th 
and 16th centuries, — in the middle ages, — in Greece, — in the East. 
The reason is, that all these systems have their root in human na- 
ture, independent of particular times and places. The human 
mind is the original, of which philosophy is the representation, more 
or less exact and complete. We are therefore to seek from the 
human mind the explanation of the different systems, which, born 
of philosophy, share all its changes, its progress, and its perfec- 
tionment ; — which, starting up in the east, in the cradle of human- 
ity, after traversing the globe, and successively appearing in Greece, 
in the middle ages, in the modern philosophy commencing with 
the 16th century, — have met together in Europe in the 18th cen- 
tury. 

The result of this examination gives, as a matter of fact in the 
history of philosophy, four great schools or systems of philosophy, 
which comprehend all the attempts of the philosophical spirit, and 
which are found in every great epoch of the world. These sys- 
tems are Sensualism, Idealism, Scepticism, and Mysticism. 

Sensualism takes sensation as the sole principle of knowledge. 
Its pretension is, that there is not a single element in the con- 
sciousness, which is not explicable by sensation. This exclusive 
pretension is its error. A part of our knowledge can be explained 
by sensation ; but another part, and that a very important part, 
cannot. Its necessary consequences are fatalism, materialism, emd 
atheism. 

On the other hand. Idealism, as an exclusive system, takes its 
point of departure from the reason or intelligence, from the ideas 
or laws which govern its activity ; but instead of contenting itself 
with denying the exclusive pretension of Sensualism, and asserting 
the origin of an important part of our knowledge in the reason, 
and thus vindicating the truths destroyed by sensualism, — ^it finds 
all reality in the mind alone, denies matter, absorbs all things, God 
and the universe, into individual consciousness, and that into 
thought ; just as, by a contrary error. Sensualism absorbs con- 
sciousness and all things into sensation. Sensualism and Idealism 
are two dogmatisms equally true in one view, equally false in an- 
other ; and. both result in nearly equal extravagances. 



XXXU INTRODUCTION. 

Scepticism, in its first form, is the appearance of common sense 
on the scene of philosophy. Disgusted with the extravagances of 
the two exclusive systems, which mutually conflict and destroy 
each other, reflection proceeds to examine the bases, the processes 
and results of those systems ; and it easily and undeniably demon- 
strates that, in all these respects, there is much error in both the 
systems. But in its weakness, it falls likewise into exclusiveness 
and exaggeration ; and finally declares that every system is false, 
and that there is no such thing as truth and certainty within the 
gTcisp of the mind. Thus scepticism results in equal extravagance. 
Its distinctive position, that there is no truth, no certainty, is 
the absurd and suicidal dogmatism : It is certain that there is no 
certainty. 

The fourth system is Mysticism. The word is not used vaguely, 
but in a precise sense ; and designates the principle of a distinct 
philosophical system. — The human mind, indeed, when tossed 
about amidst conflicting systems, and distressed by the sense of 
inability to decide for itself, yet feeling the inward want of faith, — 
a spirit the reverse of the dogmatic and scornful scepticism, may 
despair of philosophy, renounce reflection, and take refuge within 
the circle of theology. This is doubtless often the fact, though 
there is, in the opinion of Cousin, an obvious inconsistency in it ; 
for it takes for granted, that the objections which scepticism brings 
against every system, and which the mind cannot refute, are not 
as valid against a religious as a philosophical system. — The re- 
nunciation of reflection is not, however, what Cousin means by 
Mysticism. It is reflection itself, building its system on an ele- 
ment of consciousness overlooked by Sensualism, and by Idealism, 
and by Scepticism. This element is spontaneity, which is the 
basis of reflection. Spontaneity is the element of faith, of religion. 
Reflection effects a sort of philosophical compromise between reli- 
gion and philosophy, by falling back and grounding itself upon 
that fact, anterior to itself, which is the point where religion and 
philosophy meet — the fact of spontaneity. This fact is primitive, 
unreflective, accompanied by a lively faith, and is exalting in its 
influence. It is reason, referred to its eternal principle, and speak- 
ing with his authority in the human intelligence. It is on this 
element of truth that Mysticism reposes. But this system, like 
the others, in the exaggeration of its principles and in its neglect 



INTRODUCTION. XXXiil 

of the other elements of human nature, engenders multiplied ex- 
travagances ; the delusions of the imagination, and nervous sensi- 
bility, taken for revelations, neglect of outward reality, visions, 
theurgy, &c. 

These systems all have their utility ; positively, in developing 
respectively some element of intelligence, and in cultivating some 
part of human nature and of science ; — negatively, in limiting each 
other, in combatting each other's errors, and in repressing each 
other's extravagances. 

As to their intrinsic merit, it is a favorite position with Cousin : 
They exist ; therefore there is reason for their existence ; there- 
fore they are true, in whole or in part. Error is the law of our 
nature ; but not absolute error. Absolute error is unintelligible, 
inadmissible, impossible. It is not the error that the human mind 
behoves ; it is only in virtue of the truths blended with it that 
error is admitted. These four systems are, respectively, partly 
true and partly false. The eclectic spirit is not absolutely to 
reject any one of them, nor to become the dupe of any one of 
them ; but, by a discriminating criticism, to discern and accept 
the truth in each. This is the scope and attempt of M. Cousin's 
historical and critical labors. 

These four systems are the fundamental elements of all philoso- 
phy, and consequently of the history of philosophy. They are 
not only found in the 18th century, but they exist, and re-appear 
successively in every great epoch of the history of man. Pre- 
viously, therefore, to entering upon the examination of these sys- 
tems as they exist in the 18th century. Cousin reviews their 
respective antecedents in the East, in Greece, in the middle age, 
and in the 16th and 17th centuries. He traces and developes the 
Sensual, the Ideal, the Sceptical, and the Mystical schools, in each 
of those periods. The principal portion of his first volume is oc- 
cupied with this review. Our hmits forbid us to follow him. It 
can only be remarked, that, along with the other schools, he finds 
also the Sensual school. He finds it \vith all its distinctive traits 
in the philosophy of India ; he traces it through the twelve centu- 
ries filled by Grecian philosophy, from its commencement in the 
Ionian school, to Aristotle and the Peripatetics ; thence to its re-ap- 
pearance in the middle age, involved in the scholastic nominalisn 
of Occam ; thence to its more decided announcement in Pompona- 



XXXIV INTRODUCTION. 

tius, Telesio, and Campanella, in the 15th and 16th centuries ; and 
finally in modem philosophy, in Hobbes, Gassendi, and others, the 
immediate predecessors of Locke. He then comes to a detailed 
examination of Locke as the true father of the Sensual school, and 
of the various sensual systems included in it, in the 18th century. 
In this examination of the Essay on the Understanding, he signal- 
izes its general spirit and its method ; he exhibits its systematic 
principle, its applications, and all its consequences, explicit or 
involved. He carefully discriminates its part of truth from its 
part of error ; and if his conclusions result in the overthrow of the 
exclusive and systematic principles and principal positions of 
Locke's work, it is because his analysis led him to this. Of the 
truth and exactness of this analysis, the reader will judge. 



CRITICAL EXAMINATION 

OP 

' LOCKE'S ESSAY 

ON 

THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING, 



CHAPTER FIRST. 



CONTENTS OF CHAPTER FIRST. 

General spirit of the Essay on the Human Understanding. — Its 
Method. Study of the Human Understanding itself, as the necessary 
introduction to all true philosophy. — Study of the Human Understand- 
ing in its action, in its phenomena, or ideas. — Division of the inquiries 
relating to ideas, and determination of the order in which those investi- 
gations should be made. To postpone the logical and ontological ques- 
tion concerning the truth or falsity of ideas, and the legitimacy or 
illegitimacy of their application to their respective objects ; and to con- 
centrate our investigations upon the study of ideas in themselves, — and 
in that, to begin by describing ideas as they actually are, and then to 
proceed to the investigation of their origin. — Examination of the Method 
of Locke. Its merit : he postpones and places last the question of the 
truth or falsity of ideas. Its fault : he entirely neglects the question 
concerning the actual character of ideas, and begins with that of their 
origin. First mistake of Method ; chances of error which it involves. 
— General tendency of the School of Locke. Recapitulation. 



CHAPTER I. 

The first question which arises, in examining the Essay on 
the Human Understandings respects the authority upon 
which it rehes in the last analysis. Does the author seek for 
truth at his own risk, by the force of reason alone ; or does he 
recognize a foreign and superior authority to which he submits, 
and from which he borrows the grounds of his judgments 1 
This is indeed, as you know, the question which it is necessa- 
ry to put at the outset to every philosophical work, in order to 
determine its most general character, and its place in the histo- 
ry of philosophy, and even of civilization. A single glance is 
enough to show that Locke is a free seeker of truth. Every 
where he appeals to the reason. He starts from this authority, 
and from this alone ; and if he subsequently admits another, 
it is because he arrived at it by reason ; so that it is the reason 
which governs him, and, as it were, holds the reins of his 
mind. Locke belongs then to the great family of indepen- 
dent philosophers. The Essay on the Hmnan Understand- 
ing is a fruit of the movement of independence in the eigh- 
teenth century, and it has sustained and redoubled that move- 
ment. This character passed from the master to his whole 
school, and was thus recommended to all the friends of human 
reason. — I should add that in Locke, independence is always 
united with a sincere and profound respect for every thing 
worthy of respect. Locke is a philosopher, and he is at the 
same time a christian. That is one of his titles of honor. But 
it must be said that if in the Essay on the Human Under 
standing there is a tincture of sound piety and true Christianity, 
it is Christianity in a sort reduced to its most general expression. 
Locke frequently quotes the sacred scriptures and pays hom- 
age to them ; but never enters into the interior of those doc- 
trines and mysteries in which, nevertheless, the metaphysics of 



8 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

Christianity reside. Locke is a child of the reformation and 
of protestantism ; he even inclines toward Socinianism, and 
though certainly within the bounds of Christianity, is upon 
the very hmit of it. Such is the chief. As to his school, you 
know what it has been. The master is independent, yet still 
christian ; the disciples are independent, but their indepen- 
dence passed rapidly into indifference, and from indifference 
to hostility. I mention all this, because it is important that 
you should hold in your hand the thread of the movement 
and progress of the Sensual school. 

I now pass to the question which comes next after that con- 
cerning the general spirit of every philosophical work, namely 
the question of Method. You know the importance of this 
question. It ought by this time to be very obvious to you, 
that as is the method of a philosopher, so will be his system, 
and that the adoption of a method decides the destinies of a 
philosophy. Hence our strict obligation to insist on the me- 
thod of Locke with all the care of which we are capable. 
What then is that method which, in its germe, contains the 
whole system of Locke, the system that has produced the Sen- 
f sual school of the eighteenth century ? We will let Locke 

I speak for himself In his preface he expresses himself thus : 

" Were it fit to trouble thee with the history of this Essay, 

I I should tell thee, that five or six friends, meeting in my cham- 
/ ber, and discoursing on a subject very remote from this, found 

J themselves quickly at a stand, by the difficulties that arose on 
\ every side. After we had awhile puzzled ourselves without 
coming any nearer a resolution of those doubts which perplex- 
ed us, it came into my thoughts that we took a wrong course ; 
and that before we set ourselves upon inquiries of that nature, 
it was necessary to examine our own abilities, and see what 
objects our understandings were, or were not, fitted to deal with. 
This I proposed to the company, who all readily assented ; 
and thereupon it was agreed that this should be our first in- 
quiry. Some hasty and undigested thoughts on a subject I 
^ad never before considered, which I set down against our 
next meeting, gave the first entrance into this discourse; 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. g 

which having been thus begun by chance, was continued by 
intreaty ; written by incoherent parcels ; and after long inter- 
vals of neglect, resumed again, as my humour or occasions! 
permitted ; and at last, in a retirement, where an attendance 
on my health gave me leisure, it was brought into that order 
thou now seest it." 

He returns to the same thought in the Introduction which 
follows the preface. 

B. I. Ch. 1. § 2. — " I shall not at present meddle with the 
physical consideration of the mind, or trouble myself to ex- 
amine wherein its essence consists, or by what motions of our 
spirits, or alterations of our bodies, we come to have any sen- 
sation by our organs, or any ideas in our understandings ; 
and whether those ideas do, in their formation, any or all of 
them, depend on matter or no. These are speculations, which, 
however curious and entertaining, I shall decline, as lying out 
of my way, in the design I am now upon. It shall suffice to 
my present purpose, to consider the discerning faculties of a 
man, as they are employed about the objects which they have 
to do with." 

Locke is persuaded that this is the only way to repress the 
rashness of philosophy, and at the same time to encourage 
useful investigations. 

B. I. Ch. 1. § 4. — "If, by this inquiry into the nature of 
the understanding, I can discover the powers thereof, how far 
they reach, to what things they are in any degree proportion- 
ate, and where they fail us, I suppose it may be of use to pre- 
vail with the busy mind of man, to be more cautious in 
meddling with things exceeding its comprehension; to stop 
when it is at the utmost extent of its tether ; and to sit down 
in a quiet ignorance of those things, which, upon examina- 
tion, are found to be beyond the reach of our capacities. We 
should not then perhaps be so forward, out of an affectation of 
an universal knowledge, to raise questions and perplex our- 
selves and others about things to which our understandings 
are not suited, and of which we cannot frame in our minds 
any clear and distinct perceptions, or whereof (as it has per- 
2* 



10 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

haps too often happened) we have not any notions at all. If 
we can find out how far the understanding can extend its 
view, how far it has faculties to attain certainty, and in what 
cases it can only judge and guess, we may learn to content 
ourselves with what is attainable by us in this state." 

§ 6. " When we know our own strength^ we shalLthe 
better know what to undertake with hopes of success : and 
when we have well surveyed the pollers of 6ur own minds, 
and made some estimate what we may expect from them, we 
shall not be inclined either to sit still and not set our thoughts 
on work at all, in despair of knowing anything ; or, on the 
other side, question every thing, and disclaim aU knowledge, 
because some things are not to be understood." 

And again in the same section : 

" It is of great use to the sailor, to know the length of his 
line, though he cannot with it fathom all the depths of the 
ocean. It is well he knows that it is long enough to reach 
the bottom, at such places as are necessary to direct his voy- 
age, and caution him against running upon shoals that may 
ruin him." 

I will add but one more quotation. 

§ 7. " This was that which gave the first rise to this Essay 
concerning the understanding. For I thought that the first 
step towards satisfying several inquiries the mind of man was 
very apt to run into, was to take a survey of our own under- 
standings, examine our own powers, and see to what things 
they were adapted. Till that was done, I suspected we be- 
gan at the wrong end ." 

I have brought together all these citations on purpose to 
convince you that they contain not merely a fugitive view, but 
a fixed rule, a Method. Now this method, in my judgment, 
is precisely the true method, the same which at this day con- 
stitutes the power and the hope of science. Unquestionably it 
exists in Locke obscurely and indefinitely, not only in its ap- 
plication, but even in its annunciation. In order to make it 
more clear and definite, let me present it in somewhat more 
modern language. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 11 

Whatever be the object of knowledge or inquiry, God or 
the world, beings the most remote or near, you neither know 
nor can know them but under one condition, namely, that 
you have the faculty of knowledge in general ; and you nei- 
ther possess nor can attain a knowledge of them except in pro- 
portion to your general faculty of knowledge. Whatever you 
attain a knowledge of, the highest or the lowest thing, your 
knowledge in the last result rests, both in respect of its extent 
and of its legitimacy, upon the reach and the vaHdity of that 
faculty, by whatever name you call it, — Spirit, Reason, Mind, 
Intelligence, Understanding. Locke calls it Understanding. 
It follows, then, that the sound philosopher, instead of begin- 
ning with a bhnd and random application of the Understand- 
ing, ought first to examine that faculty, to investigate its na- 
ture and its capacity ; otherwise he will be liable to endless 
aberrations and mistakes. Now the Understanding forms a 
part of human nature ; and the study of the Understanding 
unpHes a more extended study — the study of human nature 
itself This, then, is pre-eminently the study which ought to 
precede and direct all others. There is no part of philosophy 
which does not presuppose it, and borrow its light from it. 
Take, for example, Logic, or the science of the rules which 
ought to direct the human mind, — what would it be without a 
knowledge of that which it is the object to direct, the human 
mind itself? So also of Morals, the science of the principles 
and rules of action, — what could that be without a knowledge 
of the subject of morality, the moral agent, man himself? 
Politics, the science or the art of the government of social 
man, rests equally on a knowledge of man, whom in his 
social nature, society may develope, but cannot constitute. 
Esthetics, the science of the Beautiful, and the theory of the 
Arts, has its root in the nature of a being made capable to 
recognize and reproduce the beautiful, to feel the particular 
emotions which attest its presence, and to awaken those emo- 
tions in other minds. So also if man were not a religious 
being, if none of his faculties reached beyond the finite and 
bounded sphere of this world, there would be for him no God. 



12 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

God exists for man^ only in proportion to his faculties ; and 
the examination of those faculties and of their capacity, is the 
indispensable condition of every sound Theodicy. In a word, 
the nature of man is implied in every science, however appa- 
rently foreign. The study of man is then the necessary in- 
troduction to every science ; and this study, call it Psychology, 
or by any other name, though it certainly is not the whole of 
Philosophy, must be allowed to be its foundation and its start- 
ing point. 

But is a knowledge of human nature, is Psychology possi- 
ble ? Without doubt it is ; for it is an undeniable fact, that 
nothing passes within us which we do not know, of which we 
have not a consciousness. Consciousness is a witness which 
gives us information of every thing which takes place in the 
interior of our minds.* It is not the principle of any of our 
faculties, but is a light to them all. It is not because we have 
the consciousness of it, that any thing goes on within us ; but 
that which does go on within us, would be to us as though it 
did not take place, if it were not attested by consciousness. It 
is not by consciousness that we feel, or will, or think ; but it is 
by it we know that we do all this. The authority of conscious- 
ness is the ultimate authority into which that of all the other 
faculties is resolvable, in this sense, namely, that if the former 
be overthrown, as it is thereby that the office and action of all 
the others, even that of the faculty of knowing itself, comes to 
be known, their authority, without being in itself destroyed, 
would yet be unknown to us, and consequently nothing for us. 
Thus it is impossible for any person not to rely fully upon his 
own consciousness. At this point, skepticism itself expires ; 
for, as Descartes says, let a man doubt of every thing else, he 
cannot doubt that he doubts. Consciousness, then, is an un- 
questionable authority ; its testimony is infallible, and no indi- 
vidual is destitute of it. Consciousness is indeed more or less 
distinct, more or less vivid, but it is in all men. No one is 
unknown to himself, although very few know themselves per- 

* See Appendix, Note A. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 13 

fectly, because all or nearly all make use of consciousness with- 
out applying themselves to perfect, unfold, and understand it, 
by voluntary effort and attention. In all men, consciousness 
is a natural process ; some elevate this natural process to the 
degree of an art, a method, by reflection, which is a sort of 
second consciousness, a free reproduction of the first ; and as 
consciousness gives to all men a knowledge of what passes 
within them, so reflectior^^ gives the philosopher a certain 
knowledge of every thing which falls under the eye of con- 
sciousness.* It is to be observed that the question heje is not 
concerning hypotheses or conjectures ; for it is not even a 
question concerning a process of reasoning. It is solely a 
question of facts, and of facts that aie equally capable of being 
observed as those which come to pass on the sc6ne of the out- 
ward world. The only difference is, the one are exterior, the 
other interior ; and as the natural action of our faculties carries 
us outward, it is more easy to observe the one than the other. 
But with a little attention, voluntary exertion, and practice, 
one may succeed in internal observation as well as in external. 
The talent for the latter is not more common than for the 
former. The number of Bacons is not greater than the num- 
ber of Descartes. In fine, if Psychology were really more 
difficult then Physics, yet in its nature, the former is, equally 
with the latter, a science of observation, and consequently it 
has the same title and the same right to the rank of a positive 
science. 

But we must understand its proper objects. The objects of 
Psychology are those of reflection, which again are those of 
consciousness. Now it is evident the objects of consciousness 
are neither the outward world, nor God, which are not given 
us in themselves ; nor is it even the soul itself as to its sub- 
stance, for if we had a consciousness of the substance of the 
soul, there would be no more dispute concerning its nature, 
whether it be material or spiritual. The only direct object of 
consciousness is the soul in its manifestation, that is in its 

» See Appendix, Note B. 



14 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

faculties, that is to say again, its faculties in their exercise and 
action, in theii" application to their objects. But neither the 
objects of these faculties, nor their subject and substance, are 
objects of consciousness. The essence, the being in itself, 
whatever it be, whether of bodies, or of God, or of the soul, 
falls not under consciousness. It directly attains only to phe- 
nomena. If, then, phenomena are the sole objects of con- 
sciousness, and consequently of reflection, and consequently 
again of psychology, it follows that the proper characteristic 
of psychology is a complete separation of itself from every 
research relative to essences, that is from ontology. True 
philosophy does not destroy ontology, but it adjourns it. 
Psychology does not dethrone ontology, but precedes and 
clears it up. It does not employ itself in constructing a 
physical or metaphysical romance concerning the nature of 
the soul, but it studies the soul in the action of its faculties, in 
the phenomena which result therefrom, and which conscious- 
ness may attain, and does directly attain. 

This may put in clear view the true character of the Essay 
on the Human Understanding. It is a work of psychology 
and not of ontology. Locke does not investigate the nature 
and principle of the understanding, but the action itself of this 
faculty, the phenomena by which it is developed and mani- 
fested. Now the phenomena of the understanding Locke calls 
ideas. This is the technical word which he every where em- 
ploys to designate that by which the understanding manifests 
itself, and that to which it immediately applies itself. 

Introduction, § 8. "I have used it," says he, 'Ho express 
whatever is meant (we must here recollect the predecessors of 
Locke, the Schoolmen,) by phantasm^ notion, species, or 
whatever it is which the mind can be employed about in 
thinking. I presume it will be easily granted me that there 
are such ideas in men's minds ; every one is conscious of them 
in himself ; and men's words and actions will satisfy him that 
they are in others." 

It is very obvious that by ideas are here meant the pheno- 
mena of the understanding, of thought, which the conscious- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 15 

ness of every one can perceive in himself when he thinks, and 
which are equally in the consciousness of other men, if we 
judge by their words and actions. Ideas are to the under- 
standing- what effects are to their causes. The understanding 
reveals itsfelf by ideas, just as causes by their effects, which at 
once manifest and represent them. Hereafter we shall ex. 
amine the advantages and disadvantages of this term, and the 
theory also which it involves. For the present it is enough 
to state it and to signalize it as the watchword of the philoso- 
phy of Locke. The study of the understanding is with ; 
Locke and with all his school, the study of ideas ; and hence 
the celebrated word Ideology, recently formed to designate the 
science of the human understanding. The source of this ex- 
pression already lay in the Essay on the Human Understand- 
ing, and the Ideological school is the natural daughter of 
Locke.* 

Here, then, you perceive the study of the human under- 
standing reduced to the study of ideas ; now this study em- 
braces several orders of researches which it is important defi- 
nitely to determine. According to what has been said, ideas 
may be considered under two points of view : we may in- 
quire if, in relation to their respective objects, they are true or 
false ; or, neglecting the question of their truth and falsity, 
their legitimate or illegitimate apphcation to their objects, we 
may investigate solely what they are in themselves as they 
are manifested by consciousness. Such are the two most 
general questions which may be proposed respecting ideas. 
The order in which they are to be treated cannot be doubtful. 
It is obvious enough, that to begin by considering ideas in re- 
lation to their objects, without having ascertained what they 
are in themselves, is to begin at the end ; it is to begin by in- 
vestigating the legitimacy of results, while remaining in 
ignorance of their principles. The correct procedure, then, is 
to begin by the investigation of ideas, not as true or false, 
properly or improperly applicable to such or such objects, and 

♦ See Appendix, Note C. 



16 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

consequently as being or not being sufficient grounds for such 
or such opinion or knowledge, hut as simple phenomena of 
the understanding, marked by their respective characteristics. 
In this way unquestionably should the true method of ob- 
servation proceed. 

This is not all. Within these limits there is ground like- 
wise for two distinct orders of investigation. 

We may investigate by internal observation the ideas Avhich 
are in the human understanding as it is now developed in the 
present state of things. The object, in this case, is to collect 
the phenomena of the understanding as they are given in 
consciousness, and to state accurately their differences and re- 
semblances, so as to arrive at length at a good classification of 
all these phenomena. Hence the first maxim of the method 
of observation : to omit none of the phenomena attested by 
consciousness. Indeed you have no option ; they exist, and 
they must for that sole reason be recognized. They are in 
reahty in the consciousness ; and they must find a place in 
the frame- work of your science, or your science is nothing but 
an illusion. The second rule is : to imagine none, or to take 
none upon mere supposition. As you are not to deny any 
thing which is ; so you are not to presume any thing which 
is not.. You are to invent nothing and you are to suppress 
nothing.' To omit nothing, to take nothing upon supposition ; 
these are the two maxims of observation, the two essential 
laws of the experimental method applied to the phenomena of 
the understanding, as to every other order of phenomena. 
And what I say of the phenomena of the understanding, I 
say also of their characteristics ; none must be omitted, none 
taken upon supposition. Thus having omitted nothing, and 
taken nothing upon supposition, having embraced all the ac- 
tual phenomena and those only, with all their actual charac- 
teristics and those only ; you will have the best chance of 
arriving at a legitimate classification, which will comprehend 
the whole reality and nothing but the reahty, the statistics of 
the phenomena of the understanding, that is of ideas, com- 
plete and exact. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 17 

This done, you will know the understanding as it is at 
present. But has it always been what it is at present ? Since 
the day when its operations began, has it not undergone many 
changes? These phenomena, whose characters you have 
with so much penetration and fidehty analyzed and reprodu- 
ced, have they always been what they are and what they now 
appear to you ? May they not have had at their birth certaia 
characters which have disappeared, or have wanted at the 
outset certain characters which they have since acquired ? 
This is a point to be examined. Hence the important ques- 
tion of the origin of ideas or the primitive characters of the 
phenomena of the understanding. When this second ques- 
tion shall be resolved ; when you shall know what in their 
birth-place have been the same phenomena which you have 
studied and learned in their actual form ; when you shall 
know what they were, and what they have become ; it will 
be easy for you to trace the route by which they have arrived 
from their primitive to their present state. You will easily 
trace their genesis, after having determined their actual present 
state, and penetrated their origin. It is then only that you 
will know perfectly what you are ; for you will know both 
what you were, and what you now are, and how from what 
you were you have come to be what you are. Thus will be 
completely known to you, both in its actual and in its primi- 
tive state, and also in its changes, that faculty of knowledge, 
that intelligence, that reason, that spirit, that mind, that un- 
derstanding, which is for you the foundation of all know- 
ledge. 

The question of the present state of our ideas, and that of 
their origin, are then two distinct questions, and both of them 
are necessary to constitute a complete psychology. In so far 
as psychology has not surveyed and exhausted these two or- 
ders of researches, it is unacquainted with the phenomena of 
the understanding ; for it has not apprehended them under all 
their aspects. It remains to see with which we should com- 
mence. Shall we begin by investigating the actual characters 
of our ideas, or by investigating their origin 7 For as to thei 



18 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

process of their generation and the passage from their primi- 
tive to their present state, it is clear that we can know nothing 
of itj till after we have exactly recognized and determined both 
the one and the other state. But which of these two shall 
we study first ? 

Shall we begin, for example, with the question of the 
origin of ideas ? It is without doubt a point extremely curious 
and extremely important. Man aspires to penetrate the origin 
of every thing, and particularly of the phenomena that pass 
within him. He cannot rest satisfied without having gained 
this. The question concerning the origin of ideas is undenia- 
bly in the human mind ; it has then its place and its claim in 
science. It must come up at some time, but should it come 
up the first ? In the first place it is full of obscurity. The 
mind is a river which we cannot easily ascend. Its g^ource, 
like that of the Nile, is a mystery. How, indeed, shall w^e catch 
the fugitive phenomena, by which the birth and first spring- 
ing up of thought is marked? Is it by memory ? But you 
have forgotten what passed within you then ; you did not even 
remark it. Life and thought then go on without our heed- 
ing the manner in which we think and live ; and the memory 
yields not up the deposite tKat was never entrusted to it. 
Will you consult others ? They are in the same perplexity 
with yourself Will you make the infant mind your study ? 
But who will unfold what passes beneath the veil of infant 
thought ? The attempt to do it readily conducts to conjec- 
tures, to hypotheses. But is it thus you would begin an ex- 
perimental science ? It is evident that if you start with this 
question concerning the origin of ideas, you start with pre- 
cisely the most difficult question. Now if a sound method 
ought to proceed from the better known to the less known, 
from the more easy to the less easy, I would ask whether it 
ought to commence with the origin of ideas ? This is the 
first objection. Look at another. You begin by investigating 
the origin of ideas ; you begin then by investigating the origin 
of that of which you are ignorant, of phenomena which you 
have not studied. What origin could you then find but a 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 19 

liypothetical origin ? And this hypothesis will be either true 
or false. Is it true ? Very well then : you have happened to 
divine correctly ; but as divination, even the divination of 
genius, is not a scientific process, so the truth itself thus dis- 
covered, cannot claim the rank of science : it is still but hy- 
pothesis. Is it false ? Then instead of truth under the vicious 
form of an hypothesis, you have merely an hypothesis with- 
out truth. Accordingly you may see what will be the result. 
As this hypothesis, that is to say in this case this error, will 
have acquired a hold in your mind ; when you come in ac- 
cordance with it to explain the phenomena of the intelligence 
as it is at present, if they are not what they ought to be in 
order to establish your hypothesis, you wall not on that ac- 
count give up your hypothesis. You will sacrifice reahty to 
it. You will do one of two things : you will boldly deny all 
ideas which are not explicable by your hypothetical origin ; 
or you will arrange them arbitrarily and to the support of your 
hypothesis. Certainly it was not worth while to have made 
choice, with so much parade, of the experimental method, to 
falsify it afterwards by putting it upon a direction so perilous. 
Wisdom, then, good sense and logic demand, that omitting 
provisionally the question of the origin of ideas, we should 
be content first to observe the ideas as they now are, the char- 
acters which the phenomena of intelhgence actually have at 
present in the consciousness. 

This done, in order to complete our investigations, in order 
to go to the extent of our capacity and of the wants of the 
human mind, and of the demands of the experimental prob- 
lems, we may interrogate ourselves as to what have been in 
their origin the ideas which we at present possess. Either we 
shall discover the truth, and experimental science, the science 
of observation and induction will be completely achieved ; or 
we shall not discover it, and in that case nothing will be either 
lost or compromised. We shall not have attained all possible 
truth, but we shall have attained a great part of the truth. 
We shall know what is, if we do not know what was ; and 
we shall always be prepared to try again the delicate question 



20 FXEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

of the origin of ideas, instead of having all our ulterior inves- 
tigations impaired, and observation perverted beforehand, by 
the primary vice of our method in getting bewildered in a 
premature inquiry. 

The regular order then of psychological problems may be 
settled in the following manner : 

1. To investigate without any systematic prejudice, by ob- 
servation solely, in simplicity and good faith, the phenomena 
of the understanding in their actual state as they are at pres- 
ent given in consciousness, dividing and classifying them ac- 
cording to the known laws of scientific division and classifica- 
tion. 

2. To investigate the origin of these same phenomena or 
ideas by all the means in our power, but with the firm resolu- 
tion not to suffer what observation has given, to be wrested by 
any hypothesis, and with our eyes constantly fixed on the 
present reality and its unquestionable characters. To this 
question of the origin of ideas is joined that of their formation 
and genesis, which evidently depends upon and is involved 
in it. 

Such in their methodical order are the different problems 
included in psychology. The slightest inversion of this order 
is full of danger and involves the gravest mistakes. Indeed 
you can easily conceive, that if you treat the question of the 
legitimacy of the application of our ideas to their external ob- 
jects, before learning what these ideas exactly are, what are 
their present actual characters and what their primitive char- 
acters, what they are and fi:om whence they spring, you must 
wander at hazard and without a torch in the unknown world 
of ontology. Again : you can conceive, that even within the 
limits of psychology, if you begin by wishing to carry by 
main force the question of the origin of ideas, before knowing 
what these ideas are, and before you have recognized them 
by observation, you seek for light in the darkness which will 
not yield it. 

Now, how has Locke proceeded, and in what order has he 
taken up these problems of philosophy ? 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 21 

Introduction, Sect. 3. " I shall pursue, says he, this fol- 
lowing method : 

Firsts I shall inquire into the origmctl of those ideas ^ 
notions, or whatever else you please to call them, which a 
man observes, and is conscious to himself he has in his mind ; 
and the ways whereby the understanding comes to be fur- 
nished with them. 

Secondly^ I shall endeavor to show what knoioledge the 
understanding hath by those ideas ; and the certainty, evi- 
dence, and extent of it. 

Thirdly, I shall make some inquiry into the nature and 
grounds of faith or opinion ; whereby I mean that assent 
which we give to any proposition as true, of whose truth yet we 
have no certain knowledge : and here we shall have occasion 
to examine the reasons and degrees of assent." 

It is evident that the two latter points here indicated, refer 
collectively to one and the same question, that is the general 
question of the legitimacy or illegitimacy of the application of 
our ideas to their external objects ; and the question is here 
given as the last question of philosophy. It is nothing less 
than the adjournment of the whole logical and ontological in- 
quiry until after psychology. Here is the fundamental charac- 
teristic of the method of Locke, and in this the originahty of 
his Essay. We agree entirely with Locke in this respect, with 
this provision however, that the adjournment of ontology 
shall not be the destruction of it. 

Now remains the first point, which is purely psychological, 
and which occupies the greatest part of Locke's work. He here 
declares that his first inquiry will be into the origin of ideas. 
Now here are two radical errors in point of method : — 1. 
Locke treats of the origin of ideas before investigating what 
they are, before tracing the statistics and preparing the inven- 
tory of them. 2. He does still more : he not only puts the . 
question of the origin of ideas before that of the inventory of 
ideas with their actual characters ; but he entirely neglects 
the latter question. It was aheady running a great hazard 
to put the one question before the other ; for it was seeking 
3* 



22 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

an hypothesis at the very outset, even though afterwards the 
hypothesis should be confronted with the actual reality of con- 
sciousness. But how will it be when even this possibihty of 
return to truth is interdicted, when the fundamental question, 
of the inventory of our ideas and their actual characters, is 
absolutely omitted ? 

Such is the first aberration of Locke. Locke recognizes and 
proclaims the experimental method ; he proposes to apply it 
to the phenomena of the understanding, to ideas ; but not 
being profoundly enough acquainted with this method, which 
indeed was then in its infancy, he has not apprehended all 
the questions to which it gives rise ; he has not disposed these 
questions in their true relation to each other ; has miscon- 
ceived and omitted the chief question, that which is eminently 
the experimental problem, namely, the observation of the ac- 
tual characters of our ideas ; and he has fallen at the outset 
upon a question which he ought to have postponed, the ob- 
scure and difficult question of the origin of our ideas. What 
then must the result be? Either^ 1, Locke will hit upon the 
true origin of ideas by a sort of good luck and divination, 
which I should rejoice in ; but however true it may really be, 
it could never take a legitimate place in science except upon 
this condition, that Locke should subsequently demonstrate 
that the characters of our ideas are all in fact explicable and 
explained in all their extent by the origin which he supposes ; 
— or else ^ 2, Locke will deceive himself : now, if he deceives 
himself, the error will not be a particular error, confined to a 
single point, and without influence upon the rest. It will be 
a general error, an immense error, which will corrupt all psy- 
chology at its source, and thereby all metaphysics. For in 
faithfully adhering to his hypothesis, to the origin which he 
had beforehand assigned to all ideas without knowing pre- 
cisely what they were, he will necessarily sacrifice all ideas 
which cannot be reduced to this origin ; and this origin, being 
not only an hypothesis, but an error, he will sacrifice unspar- 
ingly (for there is nothing more uncompromising than the 
spirit of systematic consistency) to an error every thing 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 23 

which in his ulterior researches cannot be made to agree with 
it. The falsehood of the origin will spread out over the actual 
present state of the intelligence, and will hide even from the 
eyes of consciousness the actual characters of our ideas. Thus 
when observation shall come tardily in, if it comes at all, it 
will beforehand have been misled by the spirit of system and 
vitiated by false data. Hence it will result that from applica- 
tion to application of this hypothesis, that is from error to error, 
the human understanding and human nature will be more 
and more misconceived, reality destroyed and science per- 
verted. 

You see the rock ; it remains to learn if Locke has made 
shipwreck upon it. We do not know, for as yet we are igno- 
rant what he has done, whether he has been so fortunate as 
to divine correctly ; or whether he has had the fate of most 
diviners, and of those who take at venture a road they have 
never measured. We suppose ourselves to be at present igno- 
rant, and we shall hereafter examine. But here is a proper 
place to remark, that it is in great part from Locke, is derived 
in the eighteenth century, and in all his school, the habit and 
system of placing the question of the origin and genesis 
of ideas at the head of all philosophical inquiries. All the 
school start from this question ; that is to say, this school 
which eulogizes so much the experimental method, is the one 
which corrupts it and misleads it at the very starting-point. It 
takes up the question of origin in respect to everything. In 
metaphysics, it is pre-occupied with inquiring what are the first 
ideas which enter into the mind of man. In morals, neglecting 
the actual facts of man's moral nature, it searches for the first 
ideas of good and evil which rise in the mind of man con- 
sidered in the savage state or in infancy, two states in which 
experience is not very sure, and may be very arbitrary. In 
pohticsj it seeks for the origin of society, of government, of 
laws. In general, it takes fact as the equivalent of right ; and 
all philosophy, for this school, is resolved into history, and his- 
tory the most dim and shadowy, that of the first age of hu- 
manity. Hence the political theories of this school, eo opposite 



84 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

in their results, while at the same time so identical in their 
general spirit and character. Some, burying themselves in 
ante-historical or anti-historical conjectures, find as the origin 
of society force and conquerors ; the first government which 
history presents to them is despotic ; hence the idea of govern- 
ment is the idea of despotism ; for according to them it is the 
origin which it concerns us to know, it is the origin which 
gives to .everything its true character. Others, on the con- 
trary, in the convenient obscurities of the primitive state, per- 
ceive a contract, reciprocal stipulations and titles of hberty, 
which subsequently were made to give way to despotism, and 
which the present times ought to restore. In both cases alike, 
the legitimate state of human society is always drawn from 
its supposed primitive form, from that form which it is almost 
impossible to trace ; and the rights of humanity are left at 
the mercy of a doubtful and perilous erudition, at the mercy 
of conflicting hypotheses. In fine, from origin to origin, 
they have gone on even to investigate and settle the true 
nature of humanity, its end, and all its destiny, by geological 
hypothesis ; and the last expression of this tendency is the 
celebrated Telliamed of Maillet.* 

To recapitulate : the most general character of the philoso- 
phy of Locke is independence ; and here I openly range my- 
self under his banner, though with the necessary reservations, 
if not side by side with the chief, at least side by side with his 
school. In respect to method, that of Locke is psychological, 
or ideological, (the name is of little consequence ;) and here 
again I declare myself of his school. But from not sufticient- 
ly comprehending the psychological method, and not distin- 
guishing the diflferent spheres of inquiry in which it may be 
employed, I accuse him of having commenced by an order of 
investigations which in the eye of strict reason is not the first ; 
I accuse him of having commenced by an order of inquiries 
which necessarily puts psychology upon the road of hypothe- 

* See Appendix, Note E. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 25 

sis, and which more or less destroys its experimental charac- 
ter ; and it is here that I withdraw myself from him.* 

Let us recollect where we are. We have seen Locke enter- 
ing upon a hazardous route. But has he had the good fortune, 
in spite of his bad choice, to arrive at the truth, that is to say, 
at the true origin of ideas ? What is, according to him, this 
origin ? This is the very basis of the Essay on the Human 
Understanding, the system to which Locke has attached his 
name. This will be the subject of our future discussions. 

* See Appendix, Note F. 



CRITICAL EXAMINATION 

OF 

LOCKE'S ESSAY 

ON 

THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 



CHAPTER SECOND 



CONTENTS OF CHAPTER SECOND. 

First Book of the Essay on the Human Understanding. Of Innate 
Ideas.— Second Book. Experience, the source of all ideas. Sensation 
and Reflection. — Locke places the development of the sensibility before 
that of the operations of the mind. Operations of the Mind. According 
to Locke they are exercised only upon sensible data. Basis of Sensu- 
alism. — Examination of the doctrine of Locke concerning the idea of 
Space. — That the idea of Space, in the system of Locke, should and 
does resolve itself into the idea of Body. — This confusion contradicted 
by facts, and by Locke himself. — Distinction of the actual characters of 
the ideas of Body and of Space : 1, the one contingent, the other neces- 
sary ; 2, the one limited the other illimitable ; 3, the one a sensible re- 
presentation, the other a rational conception. This distinction ruins the 
system of Locke. Examination of the origin of the idea of space. 
Distinction between the logical order and the chronological order of 
ideas. — Logical order. The idea of space is the logical condition of the 
idea of body, its foundation, its reason, its origin, taken logicall}''. — The 
idea of body is the chronological condition of the idea of space, its 
origin, taken chronologically. — Of the Reason, and Experience, consid- 
ered as in turn the reciprocal condition of their mutual development. — 
Merit of the system of Locke. — Its vices : 1 , confounds the measure of 
space with space ; 2, the condition of the idea of space with the idea 
itself. 



CHAPTER II. 

Locke, it is true, is not the first who started the question 
concerning the origin of ideas ; but it is Locke who first made 
it the grand problem of philosophy ; and since the time of 
Locke it has maintained this rank in his school. For the 
rest, although this question is not the first which in strict 
method should be agitated, yet certainly, taken in its place, 
it is of the highest importance. Let us see how Locke re- 
solves it. 

In entering upon the investigation of the origin of ideas, 
Locke encounters an opinion, which if it be well founded, 
would cut short the question : I refer to the doctrine of innate 
ideas. In truth, if ideas are innate, that is to say, as the word 
seems to indicate, if ideas are already in the mind at the mo- 
ment when its action begins, then it does not acquire them, it 
possesses them from the first day just as they will be at the last, 
and properly speaking, they have no points of progress, of gen- 
eration and of origin. This doctrine then is opposed to the very 
design of Locke, to begin with the question of the origin of 
ideas. It is opposed also to the solution which he wished to 
give of this question, and to the system with which he was 
pre-occupied. It behoved him, then, first of all, to begin by re- 
moving this obstacle, by refuting the doctrine of innate ideas. 
Hence the polemic discussion which fills the first book of the 
Essay on the Understanding. It is my duty to give you some 
account of this controversy. 

According to Locke there are philosophers who consider 
certain principles, certain maxims and propositions, pertaining 
to metaphysics and morals, as innate. Now on what grounds 
can they be called innate? Two reasons may be and liave 
been given : 1, that these propositions are universally admit- 
4 



30 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

ted ; 2, that they are primitive, that they are known from the 
moment the reason is exercised. 

Now Locke in examining these two reasons finds, that even 
if they were sound and true in themselves, which he denies, 
they yet altogether fail to estabhsh the doctrine of innate ideas. 

In metaphysics, he takes the two following propositions, 
namely : '' what is, is,^^ and, " it is impossible for the same 
thing to be, and not to be ;" — and he examines if in fact, 
all men admit these two propositions. Passing by civilized 
men who have read the philosophers, and who would certain- 
ly admit these propositions, he has recourse to uncivilized na- 
tions, to savage people, and he inquires if a savage knows 
that " what is, is," and " the same is the same." He replies 
for the savage, that he knows nothing about these proposi- 
tions, and cares nothing. He interrogates the infant, and 
finds that the infant is in the same case as the savage. Fi- 
nally supposing that savages and infants, as well as civilized 
people, admit that what is, is, and that the same is the same ; 
Locke has in reserve an objection which he beheves unan- 
swerable, namely, that idiots do not admit these propositions, 
and this single exception suffices, according to Locke, to de- 
monstrate that they are not universally admitted, and conse- 
quently that they are not innate, for certainly the soul of the 
idiot is a human soul. 

Examining again if these propositions are primitive, if they 
are possessed at the first, and as soon as men come to the use 
of reason, Locke still takes a child for the subject of his experi- 
ment, and maintains that there are a crowd of ideas which 
precede them, the ideas of colours, of bodies, the idea of exist- 
ence ; and thus the propositions in question are not the first 
which preside over the developement of inteUigence. 

So much for speculative propositions. It is the same with 
practical : Locke subjects moral propositions or maxims to the 
same test as metaphysical. Here he rests even more strongly 
on the manners of savages, on the recitals of travellers, and on 
the observation of infants. His conclusion is that there is no 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 31 

moral maxim, universally and primitively admitted, and con- 
sequently, innate. 

Such are the first two chapters of the first book of the 
Essay on the Human Understanding. The last goes stiii^''^^ 
farther. If the propositions and maxims, metaphysical' and 
moral, before examined, are neither universally nor primitive- 
ly admitted, what must we think of the ideas which are con- 
tained in these propositions, and which are the elements of 
them ? Locke selects two of them, upon which he founds an 
extended discussion, namely, the idea of God, and the idea of 
substance. He has recourse to his ordinary arguments to 
prove that the idea of God, and that of substance, are neither 
universal nor primitive. Here, as in respect to the metaphys- 
ical propositions and the principles of morality and justice, he 
appeals to the testimony of savage nations, who, according to 
him, have no idea of God ; he appeals also to infants to know 
if they have the idea of substance : and he concludes that 
these ideas are not innate, and that no particular idea, nor 
any general proposition, speculative or moral, exists anterior to 
experience. 

As ever since Locke, the question concerning the origin of 
ideas has become the fundamental question in the Sensual 
school, so also it is to be remarked that ever since Locke, the 
controversy against innate ideas has become the necessary in- 
troduction of this school. And not only the subject, but the 
manner of treating it, came from Locke. Ever since his time, 
the habit has prevailed of appeaUng to savages and to children, 
concerning whom observation is so difficult ; for in regard to 
the former, it is necessary to recur to travellers who are often 
prejudiced, who are ignorant of the languages of the people 
they visit ; and as to children, we are reduced to the observa- 
tion of very equivocal signs. The controversy of Locke, 
both in its substance and its form, has become the basis of 
every subsequent controversy in his school, against innate 
ideas. 

Now what is the real value of this controversy ? Permit 
me to adjourn this question. For if we should give it merely 



32 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

a general discussion, it would be insufficient, and if we should 
discuss it more profoundly, it would anticipate some particular 
discussions which the examination of the Essay on the Un- 
derstanding will successively bring up. Reserving, then, for 
the present, my judgment on the conclusions of the first book, 
I enter now upon the second, which contains the special 
theory of Locke, on the question of the origin of ideas. 

" Let us then suppose, says Locke, (B. IL chap. L § 2,) 
the mind to be, as we say, white paper, void of all characters, 
without any ideas; how comes it to be furnished ? Whence 
comes it by that vast store which the busy and boundless fancy 
of man has painted on it, with an almost endless var%y ? 
Whence has it all the materials of reason and knowFedge ? 
To this I answer, in one word, from experience ; in that all 
our knowledge is founded, and from that it ultimately derives 
itself. 

Experience, then, this is the banner of Locke : it has be- 
come that of his whole school. Without adopting or rejecting 
it, let us accurately determine what it covers. Let us see 
what Locke understands by experience. I leave him to speak 
for himself : 

B. IL ch. L § 2. " Our observation, employed either about 
external sensible objects, or about the internal operations of 
our minds, perceived and reflected on by ourselves, is that 
which suppUes our understandings" with all the materials of 
thinking. These two are the fountains of knowledge from 
whence all the ideas we have, or can naturally have, do 
spring." 

§ 3. " The objects of sensation one source of ideas. 

First, Our senses^ conversant about particular sensible 
objects, do convey into the mind several distinct perceptions 
of things, according to those various ways wherein those ob- 
jects do affect them : and thus we come by those idea^ we 
have of yellow^ white, heat, cold, soft, hard, hitter, sweet, 
and all those things which we call sensible qualities ; which, 
when I say the senses convey into the mind, I mean, they 
from external objects convey into the mind what produces 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 33 

there those perceptions. This great source of most of the 
ideas we have, depending wholly upon our senses, and deri- 
ved by them to the understanding, I call Sensation. 

§ 4. " The operations of our fninds the other source of 
ideas. ^^ 

Secondly, The other fountain from which experience 
furnisheth the understanding with ideas, is the perception of 
the operations of our own mind within us, as it is employed 
about the ideas it has got ; which operations, when the soul 
comes to reflect on and consider, do furnish the understanding 
with another set of ideas, which could not be had from things 
without ; and such are perception, thinking.^ doubting, he- 
lieving, reasoning, knowing, willing, and all the different 
actings of our own minds ; which we being conscious of, and 
observing in ourselves, do from these receive into our under- 
standings as distinct ideas, as we do from bodies affecting our 
senses. This source of ideas every man has wholly in him- 
self ; and though it be not sense, as having nothing to do 
with external objects, yet it is very Hke it, and might properly 
enough be called internal sense. But as I call the other 
Sensation, so I call this Reflection, the ideas it affords being 
such only as the mind gets by reflecting on its own operations 
within itself. By Reflection, then, in the following part of 
this discourse, 1 would be understood to mean, that notice 
which the mind takes of its own operations, and the manner 
of them ; by reason whereof there come to be ideas of these 
operations in the Understanding. These two, I say, namely, 
external material things, as the objects of Sensation, and the 
operations of our own minds within, as the objects of Reflec- 
tion, are to me the only originals from whence all our ideas 
take their beginnings. The term operations, here I use in 
a large sense, as comprehending not barely the actions of the 
mind about its ideas, but some sort of passions arising some- 
times from them ; such as is the satisfaction or uneasiness 
arising from any thought. 

§ 5. " All our ideas are of the one or the other of these. — 
The understanding seems to me not to have the least glim- 



34 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

mering of any ideas, which it doth not receive from one of 
these two. External objects furnish the mind with the 
ideas of sensible qualities^ which are all those different per- 
ceptions they produce in us : and the mind furnishes the 
understanding with ideas of its own operations. 

These, when we have taken a full survey of them, and 
their several modes, combiaations and relations, we shall find 
to contain all our whole stock of ideas ; and that we have 
nothing in our minds which did not come in one of these two 
ways." 

Thus, then, we have two sources of ideas, sensation and 
reflection. From these two sources flow all the ideas which 
can enter the understanding. Such is the theory of the 
origin of ideas according to Locke. 

At the outset, you will observe that Locke here evidently 
confounds reflection with consciousness. Reflection in strict 
language is undoubtedly a faculty analogous to consciousness,* 
but distinct from it, and pertains more particularly to the phi- 
losopher, while consciousness pertains to every man as an in- 
tellectual being. Still more Locke arbitrarily reduces the 
sphere of reflection or consciousness by limiting it to the 
" operations" of the soul. It is evident that consciousness or 
reflection has for its objects all the phenomena which pass 
within us, sensations or operations. Consciousness or reflec- 
tion is a witness and not an actor in the intellectual life. 
The true powers, the special sources of ideas are sensations on 
the one hand, and the operations of the mind on the other, 
only under this general condition, that we have a conscious- 
ness of the one as well as the other, and that we can fall 
back upon ourselves and reflect upon them and their products. 
To these two sources of ideas, in strictness, the theory of 
Locke is reduced. 

Now which of these two sources is developed the first ? Is 
it the sensibihty ; or is it the operations of our soul, Avhich 
enter first into exercise ? Locke does not hesitate to pronounce 

* See the preceding chapter. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 35 

that our first ideas are furnished by the sensibiHty : and that 
those which we owe to reflection come later. He declares 
this in B. IL ch. I. § 8, and still more explicitly in § 20 :" I 
see no reason to believe that the soul thinks before the senses 
have furnished it lolth ideas to think on." And again, 
§ 23 : " If it shall be demanded, then, when a man begins to 
have any ideas, I think the true answer is, when he first has 

any sensatioji ." Thus Locke admits two distinct 

sources of ideas : he does not confound the operations of the 
soul with sensations, but he places the dev elopement of the 
one before that of the other, the acquisitions of the senses be- 
fore that of thought. — Now we might pause here, and demand 
if this order is real ; if it is possible to conceive, not perhaps a 
sensation, but the idea of a sensation, without the intervention 
and concurrence of some of the operations of the soul, and 
those the very operations which he arbitrarily postpones. But 
without entering into this objection, let it suffice to state the 
fact that Locke does not admit the operations of the mind to 
have place until after the sensations. It remains to see what 
these operations do, and what are their proper functions ; upon 
what, and in what sphere, they are carried on, what is their 
extent, and whether, supposing them not to enter into exer- 
cise till after the sensibility, they are, or are not condemned to 
act solely upon the primitive data furnished to them by the 
senses. In order to this, it is necessary to examine with care 
the nature and object of the operations of the mind, according 
to Locke. 

Locke is the first who has given an analysis, or rather an 
attempt at an analysis of the sensibility, and of the different 
senses which compose it, of the ideas which we owe to each 
of them, and to the simultaneous action of several, (B. II. 
ch. II. § 2 : ch. III., IV. and V.) He Ukewise is the first who 
gave the example of what subsequently in the hands of his 
successors became the theory of the faculties of the mind. 
That of Locke, curious, and precious even, for the times, is in 
itself extremely feeble, vague and confused. Faithful, how- 



36 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

ever, to the spirit of his philosophy, Locke attempts to present 
the faculties in the order of their probable developement. 

The first of which he treats is percejjtion^ (B. IL ch. IX. 
§ 2.) " What perception is, every one will know better by 
reflecting on what he does himself, what he sees, hears, feels, 
(fee, or thinks, than by any discourse of mine. Whoever re- 
flects on what passes in his own mind, cannot miss it : and if 
he does not reflect, all the words in the world cannot make 
him have any notion of it." § 3. " This is certain, that what- 
ever alterations are made in the body, if they reach not the 
mind ; whatever impressions are made on the outward parts, 
if they are not taken notice of within ; there is no percep- 
tion." § 4. " Wherever there is sense, or perception, there is 
some idea actually produced, and present to the understand- 
ing." And, § 15. " Perception is the first degree towards 
knowledge." — The perception of Locke is undeniably con- 
sciousness, the faculty of perceiving what actually passes 
within us. 

After perception comes retention, (chap. X. § 1.) or the 
power of retaining actual perceptions, ideas, and of contem- 
plating them when present, or of recalling them when they 
have vanished. In this latter case, retention is memory, the 
aids to which are attention and repetition. 

Then comes the faculty of distinguishing ideas, (ch. XL) 
and that of comparing them ; from whence spring all the 
ideas of relation, not to omit the faculty of composition^ from 
whence spring all the complex ideas which come from the 
combination of several simple ideas. And finally, at a later 
period, the faculty of abstraction and generalization is de- 
veloped. Locke reckons no other faculties. Thus in the 
last analysis, perception, retention or contemplation and 
memory, discernment and comparison, composition, abstrac- 
tion ; — these are the faculties of the human understanding ; 
for the will, together with pleasure and pain, and the passions, 
which Locke gives as operations of the mind, form another 
order of phenomena. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 37 

Now what is the character and what is the office of these 
operations ? About what, for example, is perception exerci- 
sed, to what is it appHed ? To sensation. And what does it ? 
It does nothing but perceive the sensation, nothing but have 
a consciousness of it. Add, according to Locke, (ch. ix. § L) 
that the perception is passive, forced, inevitable, it is still 
nothing but the effect of sensation. The first faculty of the 
mind, then, adds nothing to the sensation ; it merely takes 
knowledge of it. In retention, contemplation continues this 
perception ; when faded, the memory recalls it. Discernment 
separates, composition re-unites these perceptions ; abstraction 
seizes their most general characters : but still, the materials 
are always, in the last analysis, ideas of sensation render- 
ed up to perception. Our faculties connect themselves to 
these ideas, and draw from them every thing contained in 
them ; but they do not go beyond them, they add nothing to 
the knowledge which they draw from them, but that of their 
existence and of their action. 

Thus, on the one hand, sensation precedes ; on the other, 
the understanding is, for Locke, only an instrument, whose 
whole power is exhausted upon sensation. Locke, to be sure, 
has not confounded sensation and the faculties of the mind ; 
he has most explicitly distinguished them ; but he makes our 
faculties sustain a secondary and insignificant part, and con- 
centrates their action upon the data of the senses. From this, 
to the point of confounding them with the sensibility itself, it 
is but a step, and here is the germe, as yet feeble, of that sub- 
sequent theory of sensation transformed^ of sensation as the 
sole and single principle of all operations of the mind.* It is 
Locke who, without knowing it, or wishing it, has opened 
the route to this exclusive doctrine, by adding to sensation 
only faculties whose sole office is to operate upon it without 
any proper and original power of their own. The Sensual 
school, properly speaking, is not completely formed till it has 

* As maintained by Condillac and other successors of Locke, of the 
French Sensual School. — Ed. 



88 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

arrived at that point. In the meantime, while waiting till we 
are called to examine the labors of those by whom the system 
of Locke was urged onward to this point, let us take up this 
system at what it now is, or rather at what it holds out itself 
to be, namely, the pretension of explaining all the ideas that 
are or can be in the human understanding, by sensation, and 
by reflection, or the feeling of our own operations. 

" If we trace the progress of our minds," says Locke, (ch. 
xii. § 8. ) " and with attention observe how it repeats, adds to- 
gether, and unites its simple ideas received from sensation or 
reflection, it will lead us farther than at first perhaps we should 
have imagined. And I believe we shall find, if we warily 
observe the originals of our notions, that even the most ab- 
struse ideas, how remote soever they may seem from sense, or 
fi'om any operations of our own minds, are yet only such as 
the understanding frames to itself, by repeating and joining 
together ideas, that it had either from objects of sense, or fi:om 
its own operations about them : so that those even large and 
abstract ideas are derived from sensation or reflection^ be- 
ing no other than what the mind, by the ordinary use of its 
own faculties, employed about ideas received from objects of 
sense, or from the operations it observes in itself about them, 
may and does attain unto. This I shall endeavour to show 
in the ideas we have of space^ time, and hifinityj and some 
few others, that seem the most remote from those originals." 

All in good time. This has a little the air of a challenge. 
Let us accept it, and let us see, for example, how Locke will 
deduce the idea of space from sensation and fi-om reflection. 

I am a httle embarrassed, in attempting to expound to you 
the opinion of Locke concerning space, and I have need to 
recall to your minds here an observation I have already made. 
Locke is the chief of a school. We are not to expect, then, 
that Locke has drawn from his principles all the consequences 
which these principles contain ; nor even are we to expect 
that the inventor of a principle should establish it with the 
most perfect clearness and precision. This remark, which is 
true of the whole Essay on the Human Understanding, is 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 39 

particularly true of the chapters where Locke treats of the 
idea of space. There reigns, under a clearness sometimes 
real, but oftener exterior and superficial, an extreme confu- 
sion ; — and contradictions direct and express, are met not only 
in different chapters, but even in different paragraphs of the 
same chapter. — Unquestionably it is the duty of the critical 
historian to relieve these contradictions, in order to characterize 
the era and the man, but history is not merely a monography ; 
it is not concerned solely with an individual, however great 
he may be ; it investigates particularly the order and progress 
of events, that is to say, in respect to the history of philosophy, 
of systems. It is the germe of the future which it seeks in 
the past. I shall attach myself, then, after having pointed 
out once for all, the innumerable inconsistencies of Locke, to 
the task of disengaging from the midst of these barren incon- 
sistencies, whatever there is that is fruitful, whatever has 
borne his fruits, that which constitutes a system and the true 
system of Locke. This system, you know, consists in dedu- 
cing all ideas from two sources, sensation and reflection. The 
idea of space, then, being given, it must necessarily be traced 
to one or the other of these two origins. The idea of space is 
certainly not acquired by reflection, by consciousness of the 
operations of the understanding. It rem ains, the n^ that 4t- 
must come from sensation. According to Locke it is derived 
"from sensation. Here you have his systematic principle. 
We shall allow Locke to start from this principle, and sys- 
tematically deduce the idea of space from it. But Locke does 
not set up to reform the human understanding ; his office is 
to explain it. He is to show the origin of that which is, not 
of that which might be or ought to be. 

The problem, then, for him, as for every other philosopher, 
is this : the principle of his system being given, to deduce 
from it that which now is, the idea of space, such as it is in 
the minds of all men. We shall therefore allow him to pro- 
ceed according to his system ; then we shall take from the 
heads of this system, the idea of space as given by it, and we 



40 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

shall confront it with the idea of space as we have it, such as 
all men have it, independently of any system whatever. 

According to Locke, the idea of space comes from sensation. 
Now from what sense is it derived ? It is not from the sense 
of smelling, nor of taste, nor of hearing. It must then be 
from sight and touch. So Locke says, B. II. ch. XIII. 
§ 2. " We get the idea of space both by our sight and touch, 
which I think is so evident," Sec. If the idea of space is an 
acquisition of the sight and touch, in order to know what it 
should be under this condition, we must recur to previous 
chapters, where Locke treats of the ideas we gain by the 
sight, and especially by the touch. Let us see what the touch 
can give according to Locke, and according to all the world. 
The touch, aided or not aided by sight, suggests the idea of 
something which resists ; — and to resist is to be solid. " The 
idea of solidity, says Locke, (ch. IV. § 1,) we receive by our 

touch, and it arises from the resistance which we find ." 

And what are the qualities of a solid, of that something 
which resists ? Greater or less degree of solidity. The 
greater solidity is hardness ; less is softness ; from hence, also, 
perhaps, figure, with its dimensions. I^ake, then, your solid, 
your something which resists, with its different qualities, and 
you have every thing which the touch, whether aided or not 
aided by sight, can give you. This something which resists, 
which is solid, which is more or less so, which has such or 
such a figure, the three dimensions, is in a single word, body. 

The touch, then, with the sight, does it suffice to give us 
that which resists, the solid with its qualities, body ? I do not 
wish to examine any further. Analysis would perhaps force 
me to admit here a necessary intervention of something, alto- 
gether different, besides the sense of touch. But I now choose 
rather to suppose that, in reality, the touch, sensation, gives 
the idea of body, such as I have just determined it. That 
sensation may go thus far, I am wilUng to grant ; that it goes 
farther, I deny, and Locke does not pretend. In that exact, 
ingenious, and unassailable chapter, in which, almost without 
anything of the spuit of system, he investigates the products 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 41 

of sight and touch, Locke deduces nothing from them but the 
idea of solid, that is to say, of body. If afterwards, and in 
the spirit of system, he pretends, as we have seen he does, 
that the idea of space is given to us by sensation, that is, by 
the sight and touch, it follows that he reduces the idea of space 
to that of body, and that, for him, space can be nothing else 
but body itself, — body enlarged, indefinitely multiplied, the 
world, the universe, and not only the actual, but the possible 
universe. In fact, (ch. XIII. § 10,) Locke says : " the idea 
of place we have by the same means that we get the idea of 
space, (whereof this is but a particular and limited considera- 
tion) namely, by our sight and touch ." Same chap- 
ter, same section : " to say that the world is somewhere, 

means no more than that it does exist ." It is clear, 

that is to say, that the space of the universe is equivalent to 
neither more nor less than to the universe itself, and as the 
idea of the universe is, after all, nothing but the idea of body, 
it is to this idea, that the idea of space is reduced. Such is 
the necessary genesis of the idea of space in the system of 
Locke. 

There are, it is true, in these chapters, many contradictory 
paragraphs, and the contradictions are sometimes of the most 
gross and obvious kind ; but it is no less true, that the system 
of Locke being given, that is to say here, sensation being 
given as the sole principle of the idea of space, the result 
which necessarily follows, is the idea of space just such as 
Locke has made it. Look once moi'e at the principle : the 
iilea of space is given by the sight and touch ; and then see 
the result : to inquire if the world exists somewhere, is to in- 
quire if the world exists. Upon the road, it is true, Locke 
does not march with a very firm step ; he makes more than 
one false step ; however, he arrives at the result which I have 
stated, and which his system imposed upon him. Now is 
this result the reality ? The idea of space, the offspring of 
sensation, the systematic daughter of touch and of sight, is it 
the idea of space such as it exists in your minds, and in the 
minds of all men 1 Let us see, if at present, such as we are 
5 



42 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

we confound the idea of body and the idea of space, if they 
are to us but one and the same idea. 

But in bringing ourselves to the test of such an experiment, 
let us beware of two things which corrupt every experiment. 
Let us beware of having in view any particular systematic 
conclusion ; and let us beware of thinking of any origin 
whatever, for, the pre-occupation of the mind by such or such 
an origin, would, unconsciously even to ourselves, engage us 
in a false course, make us attribute to ideas whose actual and 
present character it is our duty to observe, some specific char- 
acter, too much in reference to the origin which we internally 
prefer. We will investigate afterwards the systematic con- 
clusions which may be drawn from the experiment we wish 
to institute ; hereafter we will also follow up the origin of the 
idea. But our present object and our only object, is to state, 
without any prejudice and without any foreign view, what 
this idea actually is. ^ 

Is the idea of space, then, reducible in the understanding 
to the idea of body ? This is the question. And it is a ques- 
tion of fact. Let us take whatever body you please : take 
this book which is before our eyes and in our hands. It re- 
sists, it is solid, it is more or less hard, it has a certain figure, 
&c. Do^ you think of nothing more in regard to it ? Do 
you not believe, for instance, that this body is somewhere, in a 
certain place 1 Be not surprised at the simplicity of my 
question ; we must not be afraid of recalling philosophers to 
the simplest questions ; for precisely because they are the sim- 
plest, philosophers often neglect them, and systematize before 
they have interrogated the most evident facts, which being 
omitted or falsified, precipitate them into absurd systems. 

Is this body then any where ? is it in some place ? Yes, 
undoubtedly, all men will reply. Very well, then, let us 
take a larger body, let us take the world. Is the world some- 
where also, is it in some place ? Nobody doubts it. Let us 
take thousands, and ten thousands of worlds, and can we not, 
concerning these ten thousands of worlds, put the same ques- 
tion which I have just put concerning this book ? Are they 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 43 

somewhere, — are they in some place, — are they in space? 
We may ask the question concerning a world and millions of 
worlds, as well as the book ; and to all these questions, you 
reply equally ; the book, the world, the million of worlds, are 
somewhere, are in some place, are in space. There is not a 
human being, unless it may be a philosopher pre-occupied 
with his system, who can for a moment doubt what I have 
just said. Take the savage, to whom Locke appeals, take the 
child, and the idiot also, if he be not entirely ' one, take any 
human being who has an idea of any body whatever, a book, 
a world, a milHon of worlds ; and he will believe, naturally, 
without being able to give an account of it, that the book, the 
world, the million of worlds, are somewhere, are in some 
place, are in space. And what is it to acknowledge this ? It 
is to recognize, more or less implicitly, that the idea of a book, 
a world, a million of worlds, solid, resisting, situatedin space, 
is one thing ; and that the idea of space, in which the book, 
the world, the million of worlds, are situated, is another thing. 

The idea of space, then, is one thing, and the idea of body 
is another thing. 

This is so evident that Locke himself, when not under the 
yoke of his system, distinguishes perfectly the idea of body 
from that of space, and establishes the difference very clearly. 
Thus, for instance, B. IL chap. XIII. § 11 : 

" There are some that would persuade us that body and 
extension are the same thing : who either change the signi- 
fication of words, which I would not suspect them of, they 
having so severely condemned the philosophy of others, be- 
cause it hath been too much placed in the uncertain meaning, 
or deceitful obscurity of doubtful or insignificant terms. If 
tlierefore they mean by body and extension the same that 
other people do, viz. by body^ something that is solid and ex- 
tended, whose parts are separable and moveable different 
ways ; and by extension, only the space that lies between the 
extremities of those solid coherent parts, and which is possess- 
ed by them : they confound very different ideas one with 
another. For I appeal to every man's own thoughts, wheth- 



44 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

er the idea of space be not as distinct from that of solidity, 
as it is from the idea of scarlet colour ? It is true, solidity 
cannot exist without extension, neither can scarlet colour ex- 
ist without extension ; but this hinders not, but that they are 
distinct ideas." 

Various considerations are then added which develope at 
length the difference of body and space ; considerations which 
occupy more than ten sections, and to which I must refer you, 
lest I multiply citations too much. 

Thus, according to Locke himself, the idea of space, and 
the idea of body are totally distinct. To estabhsh this dis- 
tinction, and place it in clearer light, let us now notice the 
different characters which these two ideas present. 

You have an idea of a body. You believe that it exists. 
But is it possible to suppose, and could you suppose, that such 
a body did not exist ? I would ask you, can you not suppose 
this book to be destroyed ? Undoubtedly. Can you not also 
suppose the whole world to be destroyed, and no body to be 
actually existing ? Unquestionably you can. 

For you, constituted as you are, the supposition of the non- 
existence of bodies involves no contradiction. And what do 
we term the idea of a thing which we conceive as possibly 
non-existent ? It is termed a contingent and relative idea. 
But if you should suppose the book destroyed, the world de- 
stroyed, all matter destroyed, could you suppose space de- 
stroyed ? Can you suppose that if there were no body exist- 
ent, there would then no longer remain any space for the 
bodies which might come into existence ? You are not able 
to make the supposition. Though it is in the power of the 
human mind, to suppose the non-existence of body, it is not 
in its power to suppose the non-existence of space. The idea 
of space is then necessary and absolute. You have, then, 
two characteristics perfectly distinct, by which the ideas of 
body and of space are separated. 

Moreover, every body is evidently limited. You embrace 
its limits in every part. Magnify, extend, multiply the body 
by millions of similar bodies, you have removed, enlarged the 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 45 

limits of the body, but you have not destroyed its limits ; you 
conceive them still. But in regard to space, it is not so. The 
idea of space is given to you as a continuous whole, in which 
you can very readily form useful and convenient divisions, 
but at the same time artificial divisions, under which subsists 
the idea of space without hmit. For, beyond any determin- 
ate portion of space, there is space still ; and beyond that 
space, there is still space forever and forevermore. Thus 
while body has necessarily in all its dimensions something 
else which bounds it, namely the space which contains it, — 
there are, on the contrary, no limits to space. 

The idea of body, moreover, is not complete without the 
idea of form and figure, which implies that you can always 
represent it under a determinate form : it is always an image. 
Far otherwise with space, which is a conception, and not an 
image ; and as soon as you conceive of space by imagining 
it, as soon, that is, as you represent it under any determinate 
form whatever, it is no longer space, of which' you form a 
conception, but something in space, a body. The idea of 
space is a conception of the reason, distinct from all sensible 
representation. 

I might pursue this opposition of the ideas of body and of 
space. But it is sufficient to have stated these three funda- 
mental characteristics : 1. The idea of body is contingent and 
relative, while the idea of space is necessary and absolute ; 
J2. The idea of body implies the idea of limitation, the idea of 
space implies the absence of all limitation ; 3. And lastly, the 
idea of body is a sensible representation, while the idea of 
space is a pure and wholly rational conception. 

If these characteristics are incontestibly those of the idea 
of space and the idea of body, it follows that these two ideas 
are profoundly, distinct, and that no philosophy which pretends 
to rest on the observation of the phenomena of the under- 
standing should ever confound them. Nevertheless, the sys- 
tematic result of Locke is precisely the confusion of the idea 
of space with that of body ; and this result necessarily fol- 
lows from the very principle of Locke. In fact, the idea of 
5* 



46 FXEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

space condemned beforehand by the system to come from sen- 
sation, and not being deducible fiom the smell, the hearing, 
or the taste, was behoved to be derived from* the sight and 
touch ; and coming from the sight and touch, it could be 
nothing else than the idea of body, more or less generalized. 
Now it has been demonstrated that the idea of space is not 
that of body ; it does not, then, come from sight and touch ; 
it does not, then, come from sensation ; and as it can still less 
be deduced from reflection, from the sentiment of our own 
operations : and as it nevertheless exists, — it follows that all 
ideas are not derived from sensation and reflection^ and ' 
the system of Locke concerning the origin of ideas is defec- 
tive and vicious, at least in regard to the idea of space. 

But what ! does this vaunted system contain nothing but 
manifest and destructive contradictions to facts admitted by 
all men? In order the better to penetrate the system of 
Locke, and bring out whatever is sound in it, as we have just 
recognized wherein it is vicious, we must ourselves take stand 
upon the ground of Locke, and investigate the question which 
is, with him, the great philosophical problem. After having 
determined the characteristics of the idea of space and the idea 
of body, as they now actually exist in the intelligence of all 
men, and shown that these characteristics establish a profound 
difference between these tw^o ideas, — we must now inquire 
what their origin really is ; we must investigate the origin of 
the idea of space relatively to the idea of body. Every thing 
thus far, I trust, is simple and clear ; for we have not set foot 
out of the human intelligence as it now manifests itself Let 
us advance onward ; but let us endeavor that the Hght which 
we have already gained from impartial observation, be not 
quenched in the darkness of any hypothesis. 

There are two sorts of origin. There are, in the assem- 
blage of human intellections, two orders of relations which it 
is important clearly to distinguish. 

Two ideas being given, we may inquire whether the one 
does not suppose the other ; whether the one being admitted, 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 47 

we must not admit the other likewise, or be guilty of a paralo- 
gism. This is the logical order of ideas. 

If we regard the question of the origin of ideas under this 
point of view, let us see what result it will give in respect to 
the particular inquiry before us. 

The idea of body and the idea of space being given, which 
supposes the other 1 Which is the logical condition of the 
admission of the other ? Evidently the idea of space is the 
logical condition of the admission of the idea of body. In 
fact, take any body you please, and you cannot admit the 
idea of it but under the condition of admitting, at the same 
time, the idea of space ; otherwise you would admit a body 
which was nowhere, which was in no place, and such a body is 
inconceivable. Take an aggregate of bodies ; or take a single 
body, since every body is also an aggregate of particles, these 
particles are more or less distant from each other, and at the 
same time they co-exist together : these are the conditions of 
every body, even the smallest. But do you not perceive what 
is the condition of the idea of co-existence and of distance ? 
Evidently the idea of space. For how could there be dis- 
tance between bodies or the particles of a body, without space, 
and what possible co-existence is there, except in a continu- 
ous whole ? It is the same with contiguity. Destroy, in 
thought, the continuity of space, and distance is no longer ap- 
preciable ; neither co-existence nor contiguity are possible. 
Moreover, continuity is extension. We are not to believe 
(and Locke has very clearly established it, B. II. ch. XIII. 
§ 11,) that the idea of extension is adequate to the idea of 
body. The fundamental attribute of body is resistance; 
from hence solidity ; but soUdity does not imply in itself that 
this solidity is extended.* There is no extension but under 
the condition of a continuity, that is, of space. The exten- 
ssion of a body, then, already supposes space ; space is not the 
body or resistance ; but that which resists does not resist ex- 

* On this important point see the Essay of Dugald Stewart, on the 
Idealism of Berkely, in his Phil. Essays. 



48 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

cept upon some real point.* Now every real point is extended, 
is in space. Take away, therefore, the idea of space and of 
extension, and no real body is supposable. Therefore as the 
last conclusion, in the logical order of human knowledge, the 
idea of body is not the logical condition of the admission of 
the idea of space ; but on the contrary, it is the idea of space, 
of continuity, of extension, which is the logical condition of 
the admission of the slightest idea of body. 

Unquestionably, then, when we regard the question of the 
origin of ideas under the logical point of view, this solution, 
which is incontestible, overwhelms the system of Locke. 
Now it is at this point that the Ideal school has in general 
taken up the question of the origin of ideas. By the origin of 
ideas, they commonly understand the logical fihation of ideas. 
Hence they have said, with their last and most illustrious in- 
terpreter, that so far is the idea of body from being the founda- 
tion [Kant should have added, the logical foundation] of the 
idea of space, that it is the idea of space which is the founda- 
tion (the logical condition) of the idea of body.t The idea of 
body is given to us by the touch and the sight, that is by ex- 
perience of the senses. On the contrary, the idea of space is 
given to us, on occasion of the idea of body, by the under- 
standing, the mind, the reason ; in fine, by a faculty other 
than sensation. Hence the Kantian formula : the pure ra- 
tional idea of space comes so little from experience, that it is 
the condition of all experience. This bold formula is incon- 
testibly true in all its strictness, when taken in a certain re- 
ference, in reference to the logical order of human intellections. 

But this is not the sole order of intellection : and the logi- 
cal relation does not comprise all the relations which ideas 
mutually sustain. There is still another, that of anterior, 
or posterior, the order of the relative developement of ideas in 
time, their chronological order. And the question of the 
origin of ideas may be regarded under this point of view. 
Now the idea of space, we have just seen, is clearly the logi- 

* See Appendix, Note G. t See Appendix, Note H. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 49 

cal condition of all sensible experience. Is it also thechrono- 
logical condition of all experience, and of the idea of body ? 
I believe no such thing. If we take ideas in the order in 
which they actually evolve themselves in the inteUigence, if 
we investigate only their history and successive appearance, it 
is not true that the idea of space is antecedent to the idea of 
body. Indeed it is so little true, that the idea of space chrono- 
logically supposes the idea of body, that, in fact, if you had 
not the idea of body, you would never have the idea of space. 
Take away sensation, take away the sight and touch, and 
you have no longer any idea of body, and consequently none 
of space. Space is the place of bodies ; he who has no idea 
of a body, will never have the idea of space which contains 
it. Rationally, logically, if you had not the idea of space, 
you could not have the idea of a body ; but the converse is true 
chronologically, and in fact, the idea of space conies up only 
along with the idea of body : and as you have not the idea 
of body without immediately having the idea of space, it fol- 
lows that these two ideas are contemporaneous. I will go 
farther. Not only may we say that the idea of body is con- 
temporaneous with the idea of space, but we may say, and 
ought to say, that it is anterior to it. In fact the idea of space 
is contemporaneous with the idea of body in this sense, that 
as soon as the idea of body is given you, you cannot but have 
that of space ; but in fine, it was necessary that you should 
have had at first that of a body, in order that upon the idea of 
a body being given you, the idea of space which contains it, 
should appear [or be evolved in your consciousness.] It is 
then by [occasion of] the idea of body, that you go to that of 
space. Take away the idea of body, and you would never 
have the idea of space which encloses it. The former, then, 
may be called the historical and chronological condition of 
the other. 

Undoubtedly, and I cannot repeat it too much, for it is the 
knot of the difficulty, the secret of the problem, undoubtedly 
as soon as the idea of 'body is given, that instant the idea of 
space is evolved ; but if this condition be not fulfilled, the 



50 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

idea of space would never enter the human understanding. 
When it is awakened there, it remains fixed, independently of 
the idea of body which introduced it there, [occasioned its 
evolution ;] for we may suppose space without body, although 
we cannot suppose body without space. It is not possible for 
the reason, in its state of developement, to comprehend the 
idea of body, unless previously it has formed the idea of space ; 
but formerly, in the cradle of the human intelhgence, if the 
idea of body had not been given, never would the idea of 
space have been evolved in the understanding. The former 
was the chronological condition of the latter, as the latter is 
the logical condition of the former.* These two orders are 
completely reciprocal, and, so to say, in a certain sense all the 
world are right, and all the world are wrong. Logically^ 
Idealism and Kant are right, in maintaining that the pure 
idea of space is the condition of the idea of body, and of ex- 
perience ; and chronologically ^ Empiricism and Locke are 
right in their turn, in holding up experience, that, is on this 
point, sensation, the sensation of sight and touch, as the con- 
dition of the idea of space, and of the developement of the 
reason. 

In general. Idealism more or less neglects the question of 
the origin of ideas, and scarcely regards them but in their ac- 
tual character. Taking its position, at the outset, amidst the 
facts of the understanding as at present developed, it does not 
investigate their successive acquisition and historical develope- 
ment ; it does not investigate the chronological order of ideas. 
It confines itself to their logical validity ; it starts from reason, 
not from experience. Locke, on the contrary, pre-occupied 
with the question of the origin of ideas, neglects their actual 
characters, confounds their chronological condition with their 
logical ground, and the power of reason with that of experi- 
ence, which indeed precedes and guides the former, but which 
does not constitute it. Experience, when put in its just place, 
is seen to be the condition, but not the ground of knowledge. 

* See Appendix Note I. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 51 

Does it go farther, and pretend to constitute all knowledge 7 
It then becomes nothing but a system, a system incomplete? 
exclusive, and vicious. It becomes Empiricism where it is op- 
posed to Idealism, which latter is, in its turn, the exaggera- 
tion of the proper power of Reason, the usurpation of Reason 
over Experience, the destruction, or the forgetfulness of the 
chronological and experimental condition of knowledge, and 
which arises from its exclusive preoccupation with its logical 
and rational principles. Now it is Locke who has introduced 
and accredited Empiricism in the Philosophy of the eighteenth 
century. 

Locke very clearly saw that we could have no idea of space, 
if we had not some idea of body. That it is not body, how- 
ever, which constitutes space, I have proved ; it is body which 
fills space. If it is body which fills space, it is body which 
measures it. If it is body which fills and measures space, it 
follows that if space is not body, we never know any thing 
concerning space, except what body teaches us. Locke saw 
this: that is his merit. His fault is, 1, in h aving confound- 
ed that which fills and measures space and reveals it to us, 
with the proper idea of space itself ; 2, and this second fault 
is far more general and comprehensive than the first, in hav- 
ing confounded the chronological condition of ideas with their 
logical condition, the experimental data, external or internal, 
upon condition of which, the understanding conceives certain 
ideas, with the ideas themselves. 

This is the most general critical point of view which pre- 
dominates in all the metaphysics of Locke. I have drawn it 
from the examination I have just made of his theory and of 
the idea of space. I may apply it, and I shall apply it, in 
the succeeding discussions, to his theory of the idea of the 
infinite, of time, and of other ideas, which Locke has boast- 
ed, as you know, of deducing easily from experience, from 
sensation or from reflection. 



CRITICAL EXAMINATION 

OF 

LOCKE'S ESSAY 

ON 

THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 



CHAPTER THIRD. 



CONTENTS OF CHAPTER THIRD. 

Recapitulation of the preceding chapter.— Continuation of the ex- 
amination of the second book of the Essay on the Human Understand- 
ing. Of the idea of Time. — Of the idea of the Infinite. — Of the idea 
of Personal Identity — Of the idea of Substance. 



CHAPTER III. 

I SHALL begin at this time, by placing before you the re- 
sults at which we arrived in the last lecture. The question 
was concerning Space. 

A sound philosophy unquestionably ought not to suppress 
and destroy th6 ontological questions concerning the nature of 
space considered in itself ; — whether it is material, or spirit- 
ual, — whether it is a substance, or an attribute, — whether it is 
independent of God, or is to be referred to God himself. For 
all these questions are undeniably in the human mind. But 
they should be postponed until psychological observations, cor- 
rectly made and skilfully combined, shall put us in a condition 
to resolve them. Our first occupation, then, is with the pure- 
ly psychological question concerning the idea of space. 

If we interrogate the human understanding, as it is de- 
veloped in all men, we shall recognize the idea of space with 
these three characteristics, noticeable among several otliers : 
1. Space is given us as necessary, while body is given as that 
which may or may not exist ; 2. Space is given us as with- 
out limits, while body is given as limited on every side ; 
3. The idea of space is altogether rational, while that of body 
is accompanied by a sensible representation. 

The preliminary question concerning the actual character- 
istics of the idea of space being thus resolved, we may, with- 
out danger, advance to the far more difficult question concern- 
ing the origin of the idea. Now here we have carefully dis- 
tinguished two points of view, which are intimately blended 
together, but which analysis should separate, namely, the 
logical order of ideas, and their chronological order. In the 
logical view, body pre-supposes space; for what is body? 
The juxta-position, the co-existence of resisting points, that 
is, of solids. But how could this juxta- position, this co-exist- 



50 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

ence, happen but in a continuity, in space ? But while, in the 
order of reason and of nature, body pre-supposes space ; it is 
true, on the other hand, that in the chronological order, there 
is a contemporaneousness of the idea of body and that of 
space ; we cannot have the idea of body without that of 
space, nor of space without that of body. And if, in this con- 
temporaneous process, one of these ideas may be distinguish- 
ed as the antecedent, in the order of time, of the other, it is 
not the idea of space which is anterior to that of body ; it is 
the idea of body which is anterior to that of space. It is not 
from the idea of space that we start ; and if the sensibility, if 
the touch, did not take the initiative, and give us, immediately, 
the idea of resistance, of solid, of body, we should never 
have the idea of space. This initiative, taken by the touch, 
marks the idea of solid, of body, with the character of an an- 
tecedent, relatively to that of space. Without doubt the idea 
of body could never be formed and completed in the mind, if 
we had not already there the idea of space ; but still, the 
former idea springs up first in time ; it precedes in some de- 
gree the idea of space, which [is awakened along with it and] 
immediately follows it. 

Here then are the two orders perfectly distinct, and even 
opposed- to each other. In the order of nature and of reason, 
body pre-supposes space. In the order of the acquisition of 
knowledge, on the contrary, it is the confused and obscure 
idea of solid, of body, which is the condition of the idea of 
space. Now the idea of body is acquired in the perception of 
touch, aided by the sight ; it is, then, an acquisition of expe- 
rience. It is, then, correct to say, that, in the chronological 
order of knowledge, experience and a certain developement 
of the senses, are the condition of the acquisition of the idea 
of space ; and at the same time, as body pre-supposes space, 
and as the idea of space is given us by the reason, and not by 
the senses or experience, it is true also that, logically, the idea 
of space and a certain exertion of the reason, are pre-supposed 
in experience. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 57 

At this point of view, the true character, the merit and the 
defects of the system of Locke, are discovered. What has 
Locke done ? Instead of being contented to postpone, he has, 
I apprehend, destroyed the ontological questions concerning 
the nature of space. True, indeed, he always has the sagaci- 
ty to occupy himself, first of all, with the psychological ques- 
tion concerning the idea of space. But he ought to have tar- 
ried much longer in the inquiry into the actual characteristics 
of this idea ; and it was a great fault in him, to throw him- 
self at the outset upon the question of its origin, ^ow hi s^ 
general system of the origin of ideas being that all our ideas 
are derived from two sources, reflection, that is consciousness, 
and sensation ; and as the idea of space could not come fronr~"C 
consciousness, it clearly behoved to come from sensation ; and 
in order to deduce the idea of space from sensation, it was 
necessary to resolve it into the idea of body. This, Locke^,, 
has done in the systematic parts of his work, though at the 
same time contradicting himself more than once ; for some- 
times he speaks of space as altogether distinct from solidity. 
But when his system comes up, when he puts upon himself I 
the necessity of deducing the idea of space from sensation, 
then he affirms that the idea of space is acquired by [not I 
merely occasioned by the exercise of] the sight and by the \ 
touch. Now the touch, aided by the sight, gives us only body, ; 
and not space ; and by this process alone, Locke, implicitly, ( 
reduces space to body. He does the same thing, explicitly, , ^ 
when he says that to ask if the world exists in any place, is / 
simply to ask if the world exists. This identifying the exist- ^ 
ence of space with the existence of body, [for it is not merely 
saying that the existence of the one involves the idea of the 
existence of the other, which would be allowing two distinct / 
ideas,] is [if Locke meant anything and understood himself, ^ 
nothing less than] to identify the idea of space with that of \ 
body. This identity was necessary to render his system strict, / 
at least in appearance. — But the universal belief of the hu- \ 
man race declares that body is one thing, and space, which / 
encloses it, another thing ; the world and all possible worlds, ^ 
6* 



58 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

one thing ; the infinite and iUimitable space which would en- 
close them, another thing. Bodies measure space, but do not 
constitute it. The idea of body is indeed in time the antece- 
dent [and occasion] of the idea of space ; but it is not the idea 
itself. 

So much for the idea bi space. Let us now proceed far- 
ther to interrogate the second book of the Essay on the Hu- 
man Understanding, concerning the most important ideas ; 
and we shall see that Locke constantly confounds the order of 
the acquisition of knowledge with the logical order, the neces- 
sary antecedent of an idea with the idea itself. I propose now 
to examine the system of Locke in relation to the idea of 
time, the idea of the infinite, of personal identity, and of sub- 
stance. I begin, with Locke, with the idea of time. 

Here the first rule, you know, is to neglect the question con- 
cerning the nature of time, and to inquire solely what is the 
idea of time in the human understanding ; whether it is there, 
and with what characteristics it is there. It is there. There 
is no one, who, directly he has before his eyes, or represents to 
his imagination, any event whatever, does not conceive that it 
has passed, or is passing, in a certain time. I ask whether it 
is possible to suppose an event, which you are not compelled 
to conceive as taking place some hour, some day, some week, 
some year, some century ? There is not an event, real or 
possible, which escapes the necessity of this conception of a 
time in which it must have taken place. You can even sup- 
pose the abolition, the non-existence of every event ; but you 
cannot suppose this of time. Standing before a time-piece, 
you may very easily make the supposition, that from one hour 
to another, no event has taken place ; you are how^ever none 
the less convinced that time has passed away, even when no 
event has marked its course. The idea of time, then, hke the 
idea of space, is marked with the characteristic of necessity. 
I add, that, like space, it is also illimitable. The divisions of 
time, like those of space, are purely artificial, and involve the 
supposition of a unity, an absolute continuity of time. Take 
millions of events, and (Jo with them as you did with bodies, 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 69 

multiply them indefinitely, and they will never equal the time 
which precedes and which succeeds them. Before all finite 
time, and beyond all finite time, there is still time, unlimited, 
infinite, inexhaustible. Finally, as with the idea of spa'ce 
necessary and illimitable, so is it with the idea of time neces- 
sary and illimitable ; it is a pure idea of the reason, which 
escapes all representation, all grasp of the imagination and 
the sensibility. 

Now it is with respect to the origin of the idea of time as 
with the origin of the idea of space. Here again we are to 
distinguish the order of the acquisition of our ideas from their 
logical order. In the logical order of ideas, the idea of any 
succession of events pre-supposes that of time. There could 
not be any succession, but upon condition of a continuous 
duration, to the different points of which the several members 
of the succession may be attached. Take away the continu- 
ity of time, and you take away the possibility of the succession 
of events ; just as the continuity of space being taken away, 
the possibility of the juxta-position and co-existence of bodies 
is destroyed. 

But in the chronological order, on the contrary, it is the idea 
of a succession of events, which precedes the idea of time as 
including them. I do not mean to say in regard to time, any 
more than in regard to space, that we have a clear, complete, 
and finished idea of a succession, and that then the idea of 
time, as including this series or succession, springs up. I 
merely say, that it is clearly necessary that we should have a 
perception of some events, in order to conceive that these events 
are in time, [and in order along with, and by occasion of, 
those events to have the idea of time awakened in the mind.] 
Time is the place of events, just as space is the place of bodies ; 
whoever had no idea of any event, [no perception of any suc- 
cession] would have no idea of time. If, then, the logical 
condition of the idea of succession, lies in the idea of time, 
the chronological condition of the idea of time, is the idea of 
succession. 



60 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

To this result, then, we are come : the idea of succession 
is the occasion, the chronological antecedent of the necessary 
conception of time. Now every idea of succession is undenia- 
bly an acquisition of experience. It remains to ascertain of 
what experience. Is it inward, or outward experience? 
The first idea of succession, — is it given in the spectacle of 
outward events, or in the consciousness of the events that 
pass within us ? 

Take a succession of outward events. In order that these 
events may be successive, it is necessary that there should be 
a first event, a second, a third, cfcc. But if, when you see 
the second event you do not remember the first, it would not 
be the second ; there could be for you no succession. You 
would always remain fixed at the first event, which would 
not even have the character of first to you, because there 
would be no second. The intervention of memory is neces- 
sary, then, in order to conceive of any succession whatever. 
Now memory has for its objects nothing external ; it relates 
not to things, but to ourselves ; we have no memory but of 
ourselves. When we say, we remember such a person, we 
remember such a place, — it means nothing more than that we 
remember to have been seeing such a place, or we remember 
to have been hearing or seeing such a person. There is no 
memory but of ourselves, because there is no memory but 
where there is consciousness. If consciousness then is the 
condition of memory, and memory the condition of time, it 
follows that the first succession is given us in ourselves, in 
consciousness, in the proper objects and phenomena of con- 
sciousness, in our thoughts, in our ideas. But if the first 
succession given us, is that of our ideas, as to all succession 
is necessarily attached the conception of time, it follows again, 
that the first idea we have of time, is that of the time in 
which we are ; and so the first succession for us, is the suc- 
cession of our own ideas, the first duration for us is our own 
duration ; the succession of outward events, and the dura- 
tion in which these events are accomplished, is not known to 
us till afterwards. I do not say, that the succession of out- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 61 

ward events is nothing but an induction from the succession 
of our own ideas ; neither do I say that outward duration is 
nothing but an induction from our own personal duration : 
but I say, that we cannot have an idea, either of external 'viij 
succession, or of duration, till after we have had the conscious- 
ness and the memory of some internal phenomena, and con- 
sequently of our own duration. Thus, then, summarily, the 
first duration given us, is our own ; because the first succes- 
sion which is given, is the succession of our own ideas. 

A profound and penetrating analysis might carry us farther 
still. There is a crowd of ideas, of phenomena, under the 
eye of consciousness. To inquire what is the first succession 
given us, is to inquire what are the first ideas, the first pheno- 
mena, which fall under consciousness, and form the first suc- 
cession. Now^ it is evident, in respect to our sensations, that 
they are not phenomena of consciousness except upon this 
condition : that we pay attention to them. Thousands and 
thousands of impressions may affect my sensibility, but if I 
do not give them my attention, I have no consciousness of 
them. It is the same with respect to many of my thoughts, 
which, if the attention is directed elsewhere, do not come to 
my consciousness, but vanish in reveries. The essential con- 
dition of consciousness is attention ; the internal phenomenon 
most intimately allied to consciousness is then attention ; and 
a series of acts of attention is, necessarily, the first succession 
which is given us. Now what is attention ? It is not a re- 
action of the organs against the impression received. It is 
nothing less than the will itself; for nobody is attentive 
without willing to be so ; and attention at last resolves itself 
into the wiU. Thus, the first act of attentior^jsa voluntary 
act, the first event of which we have a consciousness, is a" 
vohtion, and the will is the foundation of consciousness. The 
first succession, then, is that of our voluntary acts ; the ele- 
ment of succession is volition. Now succession measures 
tune, as body measures space ; from whence it follows, that 
the first succession being that of voluntary acts, the will is the 
primitive measure of time ; and as a measure, it has this ex- 



ep ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

cellence that it is equal to itself ; for every thing differs in the 
consciousness, sensations and thoughts, while acts of atten- 
tion, being eminently simple, are essentially similar. 

Such is the theory of the primitive and equal measure of 
time which we owe to M. de Biran ; and you may see it ex- 
pressed with perfect originahty of analysis and of style, in the 
Lectures of M. Royer-Collard* M. de Biran continually 
repeatedj^ that the^lement of duration Jsjhe^will ; and in or- 
der to pass from our own duration to outward duration, from 
the succession of our own acts, to the succession of events, 
from the primitive and equal measure of time for us, to the 
ulterior and more or less uniform measure of time without us, 
M. de Biran had recourse to a two-fold phenomenon of the 
will, which has reference at once to the external and to the 
internal world. According to de Biran, the type of the senti- 
ment of the will is the sentiment of effort. I make an effort 
to raise my arm, and I raise it. I make an effort to walk, 
and I walk. The effort is a relation with two terms ; the 
one is internal, namely, the will, the act of the will, — the 
/other is external, namely, the movement of the arm, or the 
step that I take, which has its cause and its measure in the 
, internal movement of the will. Now a moment is nothing 
[else in itself but a most simple act of the will. It is at first 
j altogether internal ; then it passes outward, in the external 
/ movement produced by the nisus or effort, a movement which 
I reflects that of the will, and becomes the measure of all the 
\ subsequent external movements, as the a\tU itself is the prim- 
;itive and undecomposable measure of the first movement 
! which it produces. 

Without taking upon myself either the honor or the re- 
sponsibility of all parts of this theory, I has^n to notice that 
of Locke. The merit of Locke consists in having proved 
that the idea of time, of duration, of eternity, is suggested to 
us by the idea of some succession of events ; and that this 
succession is taken, not from the external world, but from the 



See Appendix, Note K. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 63 

world of consciojusness. See B. IL ch. XIV. XV. XVI. 
For example, ch. XIV. § 4 : " men derive their ideas of dura- 
tion from their reflection on the trains of the ideas they ob- 
serve to succeed one another in their own understandings." 
And, § 6 : ^^e idea of succession is not from motion." Also, 
§ 12 : " the constant and regular succession of ideas is the 
measure and standard of all other successions." The analysis 
of Locke undoubtedly does not go far enough ; it does not 
determine in what particular succession of ideas, the first suc- 
cession, the first duration, is given to us. And when it is said 
that Locke, in making the idea of duration to come from reflec- 
tion, makes it to come from the sentiment of the operations of 
the mind, yet as according to Locke, the operations of the 
mind are not all active and voluntary, his theory is very far 
from being the same with that which I have just now stated. 
But it must be acknowledged that the one has opened the road 
for the other ; and that it was doing much to have drawn the 
idea of time from the interior, from the phenomena of reflec- 
tion. This is the merit of Locke's theory. The vice of it 
however, is more considerable ; but still it is closely allied to the 
merit. Locke saw that the idea of time is given in succes- 
sion, and that the first succession for us, is, necessarily, the 
succession of our own ideas. Thus far Locke deserves only 
praise, for he gives the succession of our ideas merely as the 
condition of the acquisition of the idea of time ; but the condi- 
tion of a thing is easily taken for the thing itself, and Locke, 
after having taken the idea of body, the mere condition [chro- 
nological antecedent, and occasion] of the idea of space, for 
the idea of space itself, here also takes the condition of the 
idea of time, for the idea itself. He confounds successi on 
with time. He not only says that the succession of our ideas, 
is the condition of the conception of time ; but he says that 
time is nothing else than the succession of our ideas. B. II. 
ch. XIV. § 4 : " That we have our notion of succession and 
duration from this original, namely, from reflection on the 
train of ideas which we find to appear one after another in our 
minds, seems plain to me in that we have no perception of 



64 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

duration, but by considering the train of ideas that take their 
turns in our understandings. When that succession of ideas 
ceases, our perception of duration ceases with it ; which every 
one clearly experiments in himself, while he sleeps soundly, 
whether an hour or a day, a month, or a year ; of which 
duration of things, whilst he sleeps or thinks not, he has no 
perception at all, but it is quite lost to him : and the moment 
wherein he leaves off to think, till the moment he begins to 
think again, seems to him to have no distance. And so, I 
doubt not, it would be to a waking man, if it were possible for 
him to keep only one idea in his mind, without variation and 
the succession of others." 

In this whole passage there is: 1. A confusion of two ideas 
very distinct, duration and succession. 

2. An obvious paralogism ; for duration is explained by 
succession, which, in its turn, is explicable only by duration. 
In truth, where do the elements of any succession follow each 
other, if not in some duration ? Or how could succession, — • 
the distance, so to say, between ideas, — take place, unless in 
the space proper to ideas and to minds, that is, in time ? 

3. Moreover, see to what results the theory of Locke leads. 
If succession is no longer merely the measure of time, but 
time itself ; if the succession of ideas is no longer the condition 
of the conception of time, but the conception itself, it follows 
that time is nothing else than the fact of theie being a suc- 
cession of our ideas. The succession of our ideas is more or 
less rapid ; and time then is more or less short, not in appear- 
ance, but in reality. In absolute sleep, in lethargy, all suc- 
cession of ideas ceases ; and then we have no duration, and 
not only have we no duration, but there is no duration for 
any thing ; for not only our time, but time in itself is nothing 
but the succession of our ideas. Ideas exist but under the 
eye of consciousness ; but there is no consciousness in lethar- 
gy, in total sleep, consequently there was no time. The 
time-piece vainly moved on, the time-piece was wrong ; and 
the sun, like the time-piece, should have stopped. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 65 

These are the results, very extravagant indeed, and yet the 
necessary results of confounding the idea of succession with 
that of time ; and the confusion itself is necessary in the 
general system of Locke, which deduces all our ideas from 
sensation and reflection. Sensation had according to him 
given space ; reflection gives time : but reflection, that is, 
consciousness with memory, pertains only to the succession of 
our ideas, of our voluntary acts ; a succession finite and con- 
tingent, and not time, necessary and unlimited, in which this 
succession takes place. Experience, whether external or in- 
ternal, gives us only the measure of time, and not time itself. 
Now Locke, by his assumed theory, was forbidden any source 
of knowledge but sensation and reflection. It was necessary 
of course to make time explicable by the one or the other. 
He saw very clearly that it was not explicable by sensation, 
and it could not be by reflection, except upon condition of re- 
ducing it to the measure of time, that is to say, to succession. 
Locke has thus, it is true, destroyed time ; but he has saved 
his system. It is at the same price he will save it again in 
respect to the idea of the infinite. 

Time and space have for their characteristics, that they are 
ilUmitable and infinite. Without doubt the idea of the infi- 
nite is applicable to something else besides time and. space; 
but since we have hitherto treated only of time and space, we 
wall now refer the idea of the infinite merely to time and 
space, as Locke has set the example. 

Space and time are infinite. Now the idea of the infinite 
may be detached from the ideas of time and space, and con- 
sidered in itself, provided we always keep in mind the subject 
from which it is abstracted. The idea of the infinite un- 
questionably exists in the human understanding, since there 
is undeniably in it the idea of time, and the idea of space, 
which are infinite. The infinite is distinct from the finite, 
and consequently from the multiplication of the finite by 
itself, that is, from the indefinite. Zeroes of the infinite added 
as many times as you please to themselves, will never make 
up the infinite. You can no more deduce the infinite fi-om 
7 



66 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

the finite, than you could deduce space from body, or time 
from succession. 

In respect to the origin of the idea of the infinite, recollect 
that if you had not had the idea of any body, nor of any 
succession, you would never have had the idea of space, nor 
of time : but that at the same time, you cannot have the idea 
of a body or of a succession, without having [necessarily 
awakened along with it] the idea of space or of time. Now 
body and succession are the finite ; space and time are the in- 
finite. Without the finite, there is for you no infinite ; but at 
the same time, immediately that you have the idea of the 
finite, you cannot help having the idea of the infinite. Here 
recollect again the distinction between the order of the acqui- 
sition of our intellections, and their logical order. In the 
logical order, the finite supposes the infinite as its necessary 
ground ; but in the chronological order, the idea of the finite 
is the necessary condition [occasion] of the acquisition of the 
idea of the infinite. 

These facts are evident and undeniable ; but Locke had a 
system, and this system consisted in admitting no other origin 
of all our ideas but sensation and reflection. Now the idea of 
the finite, which resolves itself into that of body and of suc- 
cession, comes easily from sensation or from reflection ; but 
the idea of the infinite, which resolves itself neither into the 
idea of body nor of succession, since time and space are nei- 
ther the one nor the other of these two, — the idea of the infi- 
nite, can come neither from sensation nor from reflection. If 
the idea of the infinite subsist, the system of Locke must then 
be false. It was necessary then that the idea of the infinite 
should not subsist ; and Locke has accordingly repulsed and 
eluded it as much as possible. He begins by declaring that 
the idea of the infinite is very obscure, while that of the finite 
is very clear and comes easily into the mind, (B. II. ch. XVII. 
§ 2.) But in the first place, whether obscure, or not obscure, 
is it in the intelligence ? That is the question, and whether 
obscure or not obscure, if it is real, it is your duty as a philoso- 
pher to admit it, whether you can render it clearer or not. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 67 

And then as to the obscure, let us understand ourselves. The 
senses have to do only with body ; consciousness or reflection, 
with succession. The objects of sense and of consciousness 
are then body and succession, that is to say, the finite. Thus 
truly nothing is clearer, for sense or for consciousness, than 
the finite ; while the infinite is and ought to be very obscure 
for sense and consciousness, for this very simple and sufficient 
ground^ that the infinite is the object neither of sense nor of 
consciousness, but of the reason alone. If, then, you go about 
to apprehend the infinite by sense and consciousness, it is 
necessarily obscure and even inaccessible ; but if by reason, 
nothing is clearer, even to the degree that it is then precisely 
the finite which becomes obscure to your eyes and escapes 
you. Thus you may perceive how Empiricism, grounding 
itself exclusively upon experience, internal or external, is 
naturally led to the denial of the infinite ; while Idealism, 
grounding itself exclusively upon the reason, forms a very 
clear idea of the infinite, but scarcely admits the finite, which 
is not the appropriate object of the reason. 

After having sported awhile with the idea of the infinite as 
obscure, Locke objects again that it is purely negative, that it 
has nothing positive in it. B. II. ch. XVII. § 13 : " We have 
no positive idea of infinity." § 16 : " We have no positive 
idea of an infinite duration." § 18 : " We have no positive 
idea of infinite space." Here we have the accusation, so often 
since repeated, against the conceptions of reason that they are 
not positive. But first, observe that there can no more be an 
idea of succession without the idea of time, than of time 
without the previous idea of succession ; and no more idea of 
body without the idea of space, than of space without the 
previous idea of body ; that is to say, there can no more be 
the idea of the finite without the idea of infinite, than of the 
infinite without the previous idea of the finite. From whence 
it follows in strictness, that these ideas suppose each other, and 
if any one pleases to say,, reciprocally limit each other ; and 
xonsequently, the idea o^ the infinite is no more the negative 
of that of the finite, than the idea of the finite is the negative 



08 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

of that of the infinite. They are both negatives on the same 
ground, or they are both positives ; for they are two simultane- 
ous afl^rmations, and every affirmation gives a positive idea. 

Or does Locke understand by positive, that which falls under 
experience external or internal, and by negative, that which 
does not fall under experience ? Then I grant that the idea 
of body and of succession, that is of the finite, does fall solely 
under experience, under sensation and consciousness ; and 
that it alone is positive, while the idea of time and of space, 
that is, of the infinite, falling only under reason, is purely 
negative. But with this explanation, we should be driven in 
strict consistency, to maintain that all rational conceptions, for 
example those of Geometry and Morals, are also purely nega- 
tive, and have nothing positive in them. 

But if by positive be understood every thing which is not 
abstract, every thing that is real, every thing that falls within 
the immediate and direct grasp of some one of our faculties, 
it must be admitted that the idea of the infinite, of time and 
of space, is as positive as that of the finite, of succession and 
of body, since it falls under the reason, a faculty altogether as 
real and as positive as the senses and consciousness, although 
its proper objects are not those of experience.* 

At la^t being obhged to explain himself categorically, after 
many contradictions, (for Locke often speaks elsewhere, and 
here also, of the infinity of God, B. II. ch. XVII. § 1, and 
even of the infinity of time and space, ib. § 4, 5,) he ends by 
resolving the infinite into number (ib. § 9 :) " Number affords 
iLS the clearest idea of infinity. — But of all other ideas, it is 
number, as I have said, which I think furnishes us with the 
clearest and most distinct idea of infinity we are capable of. 
For even in space and duration, when the mind pursues the 
idea of infinity, it there makes use of the ideas and repeti- 
tions of numbers, as of millions of millions of miles, or years, 
which are so many distinct ideas, kept best by number fi-om 
running into a confused heap, wherein the mind loses itself" 

* See Appendix Note L. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 69 

But what is number ? It is in the last analysis, such or 
such a number ; for every number is a determinate number. 
It is then a finite number whatever it may be. Raise the 
figure as high as you please, the number, as such, is only a 
particular number, an element of succession, and consequent- 
ly a finite element. Number is the parent of succession, not 
of duration ; number and succession measure time, but are 
not adequate to it, and do not constitute it. 

The reduction of the infinite to number is, then, the reduc- 
tion of time infinite, to its measure indefinite, that is, to the 
finite ; just as in regard to space, the reduction of space to body 
is the reduction of the infinite to the finite. Now to reduce 
the infinite to the finite is to destroy it ; it is to destroy the be- 
lief of the human race ; but, as before observed, it saves the 
system of Locke. In fact the infinite can be found neither in 
sense, nor consciousness, but the finite can be found there 
wonderfully well. It alone is found. There is, then, (for 
Locke) nothing else, neither in the mind nor in nature ; and 
the idea of the infinite is nothing but a vague and obscure 
idea, altogether negative, which at last, when reduced to its 
just value, resolves itself into number and succession [as the 
only part of it actual and real.] ^,^--' 

Let us now examine the theory of personal identity" in y^ 
Locke, as we have that of infinity, of time, and of space. jbi/^ 

Is the idea of personal identity found, or not found in i\i& 
human understanding ? Every one can answer for himself. 
Is there any one who doubts his personal identity, who doubts 
that he is the same he was yesterday, and will be to-morrow ? 
If no one doubts his personal identity, it remains solely to 
seek the origin of this idea. 

I suppose if you did not think and were not conscious of 
thinking, you would not know that you existed. Reflect 
whether in the absence of all thought, all consciousness, you 
could have any idea of your own existence, and consequently 
of your existence as one and the same ? On the other hand, 
can you have the consciousness of a single operation of your 
mind, without instantly having an irresistible conviction of 
7* 



70 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

your existence ? You cannot In every act of conscious- 
ness there is the consciousness of some operation, some phe- 
nomenon, some thought, voUtion, or sensation ; and at the 
same time the conception of our existence. And when mem- 
ory, following consciousness, comes into exercise, the pheno- 
mena which just before were under the eye of consciousness, 
fall under that of memory, with this implicit conviction, that 
the same being, the same / myself^ who was the subject of 
the phenomena of which I was conscious, still exists, and is 
the same whom my memory recalls to me. And you are 
carefully to observe that the sole direct objects of memory and 
of consciousness are phenomena present and past ; but at the 
same time, consciousness and memory never take cognizance 
of these phenomena without the reason suggesting to me the 
irresistible conviction of my personal existence one and iden- 
tical. 

Now if you distinguish again the two orders I have repeat- 
edly mentioned, the logical order and the chronological order 
of knowledge, it is evident that in the order of reason and 
nature, it is not the consciousness and memory with their 
acts, which are the foundation of personal identity ; on the 
contrary, personal identity, the continued existence of the 
being, is- the foundation of consciousness and of memory and 
of their continuity. Take away being, and there are no 
longer any phenomena ; the phenomena no longer come to 
consciousness and memory. Thus in the order of nature 
and of reason, consciousness and memory involve the suppo- 
sition of personal identity. But it is not so in the chronologi- 
cal order. In this order, though we cannot be conscious and 
remember without instantly having a rational conviction of 
our identical existence ; nevertheless it is necessary in order 
to have this conviction of our identity, that there should have 
been some act of consciousness and of memory. Undoubt- 
edly the act of memory and of consciousness is not consum- 
mated, until the conception of our personal identity is given 
us ; but some act of memory and of consciousness must have 
taken place, in order that the conception of our identity should 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 71 

take place in its turn. It is in this sense I say, that an exer- 
cise of memory, and of consciousness, of some sort, is the ne- 
cessary chronological condition of the conception of our per- 
sonal identity. 

Analysis might bring up, concerning the phenomeBj|^r§t 
consciousness and of memory, which suggest to us thd^esrof ^^ 
our personal identity, the same problem that has alreafi^l^eeii ^ * 
brought up concerning those phenomena of conscWsness ^ 
which suggest the idea of time : it may examine what, 
among the numerous phenomena which we are conscious of 
and remember, are those by occasion of which we first acquire 
the conviction of our existence. This, in fact, is to inquiie 
what are the conditions of memory and of consciousness. 
We have already seen that the condition of memory is con- 
sciousness. It remains, then, to see what is the condition of 
consciousness. But we have already seen also, that the con- 
dition of consciousness is attention, — and the condition of at- 
tention is the will. It is the will, then, attested by conscious- 
ness, which suggests to us the conviction of our own exist- 
ence ; and it is the continuity of the will attested by the 
memory, which suggests to us the conviction of our personal 
identity. It is M. de Biran to whom again I refer the honor 
and the responsibility of this theory. 

Let us now notice the theory of Locke. It was very clear- 
ly seen by Locke (B. II. ch. XXVII. § 9) that where there 
is no consciousness, (and, as has been said, Locke should have 
added memory) ; — where there is neither consciousness nor 
memory, there can be for us no idea of our personal identity ; 
and that the sign, the characteristic, and the measure of person- 
ality, is consciousness. I cannot attribute too much praise to 
this part of the theory of Locke. It apprehends and puts in 
clear light the true sign, the true characteristic, and measure 
of personality. But the sign is one thing, and the thing sig- 
nified is another thing ; the measure is one thing, the thing 
measured is another thing; the eminent and fundamental 
characteristic of self^ and of personal identity, is one thing, 
the identity itself is anotlier thing. Here, as in regard to the 



72 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

infinite, to time, and to space, Locke has confounded the con- 
dition of an idea with the idea itself. He has confounded 
identity with consciousness and memory, which represent it, 
and which suggest the idea of it. B. IL ch. XXVII. § 9. 
" Since consciousness always accompanies thinking, and it is 
that which makes every one to be what he calls self^ and 
thereby distinguishes himself from all other thinking beings ; 
in this alone consists personal identity, that is, the sameness of 
a rational being ; and so far as this consciousness can be ex- 
tended backwards to any past action or thought, so far reaches 
the identity of that person ; it is the same self now that it 
was then, and it is by the same self with this present one that 
now reflects on it, that that action was done." Ih. § 10. " Con- 
sciousness makes personal identity ;" and § 16, "Consciousness 
makes the same person;" §17, "Self depends on conscious- 
ness ;" § 23, " Consciousness alone makes self" 

Now the confusion of consciousness and personal identity 
destroys personal identity, just as the confusion of number and 
infinity destroys infinity, as the confusion of succession and 
time destroys time, as the confusion of body and space destroys 
space. In truth, if personal identity consists wholly in con- 
sciousness, then when consciousness is impaired or lost, there 
must be^a diminution or loss of personal identity. Deep sleep, 
lethargy, which is a species of sleep, re very, intoxication, or 
passion, which frequently destroys the consciousness, and of 
course the memory, must not only destroy the sense or feeling 
of existence, but existence itself. It is not necessary to follow 
all the consequences of this theory. It is evident that if mem- 
ory and consciousness not merely measure existence for us, 
but constitute it, any one who has forgotten that he did an 
act, did not in reality do it ; any one who has badly measured 
by memory the time of his existence, has really less existed. 
A man no longer recollects to have committed a crime ; he 
cannot be put upon trial for it, for he has ceased to be the 
same person. The murderer must no longer suffer the pun- 
ishment of his act, if by a fortunate chance he has lost the re- 
collection of it. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 73 

To resume : no doubt personality has for its distinguishing 
sign, the will, and the operations of consciousness and memo- 
ry ; and that if we never had either consciousness or memory 
of any operation and of any voluntary act, we should never 
have the idea of our personal identity. But this idea once 
introduced by [occasion of] consciousness and memory into 
the intelligence, subsists there independently of the memory 
of the acts which occasioned it. No doubt that which attests 
and measures personality and the moral accountability of our 
actions, is the consciousness of the free-will which produced 
them ; but when these actions are once performed by us with 
consciousness and free-will, though the recollection of them 
may have faded or vanished quite away, yet the responsibility 
of them, as well as our personahty, remains complete. It is 
not, then, consciousness and memory which constitute our per- 
sonal identity. Still more, not only do they not constitute it, 
but personal identity is not even an object of consciousness 
and of memory. None of us has a consciousness of his own 
nature ; otherwise, the depths of existence would be easy to 
sound, and the mysteries of the soul would be perfectly known. 
We should perceive the soul as we perceive any phenomena 
of the consciousness, which we apprehend directly, sensation, 
voUtion, thinking. But such is not the fact. The personal 
existence, the self which we are, does not fall under the eyes 
of consciousness and memory ; and nothing does, but the oper 
rations by which this self is manifested. These operations 
are the proper objects of consciousness and memory ; personal 
identity is a conviction of the reason. But none of these dis- 
tinctions could find a place in the theory of Locke. The 
pretension of this theory is to deduce all ideas from sensation 
and reflection. Now the idea of personal identity could not 
be made to come from sensation ; it was necessary, therefore, 
to make it come firom reflection, that is, to make it an object 
of memory and of consciousness, that is, again, to destroy the 
idea of personal existence, by confounding it with the phe- 
nomena which reveal it, and which, too, without it, would be 
impossible. 



74 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

It only remains now to examine the theory of substance. 
And in the first place, do not be disturbed by the idea of sub- 
stance, any more than by that of the infinite. Infinity is an 
attribute of time and space ; so the idea and the word sub- 
stance is a generahzation from the fact which I have just been 
discussing. Consciousness, with memory, attests to you an 
operation, or many successive operations, and at the same 
time reason suggests the behef of your own personal existence. 
Now your personal existence, the self which you are, and 
which reason reveals to you, — what is it, relatively to the 
operations which consciousness and memory attest to you ? 
It is the subject of these operations, of which the operations 
themselves are the characteristics, the signs, the attributes. 
These operations are perpetually changing and renewing; 
they are accidents. On the contrary, your personal existence 
subsists always the same ; amidst the perpetual diversity of 
your acts, you are to-day the same that you were yesterday, 
and that you will be to-morrow. Personal identity is the 
unity of your being, your self^ opposed to the plurality of con- 
sciousness and memory. Now being, one and identical, op- 
posed to variable accidents, to transitory phenomena, is sub- 
stance. 

Here you have personal substance. And it is the same in 
relation to external substance, which I do not yet care to call 
material substance. The touch gives you the idea of resist- 
ance, of solid, the other senses give you the idea of other 
qualities, primary or secondary. But what ! Is there nothing 
but these qualities] While the senses give you solidity, 
color, figure, softness, hardness, &c., do you believe that these 
qualities are merely in the air, or do you not believe that they 
are the qualities of something really existing, and which, be- 
cause it really is, is solid, hard, soft, of a certain color, figure, 
(fee. ? You would not have had the idea of this something, if 
the senses had not first given you the idea of these qualities ; 
but you cannot have the idea of these qualities without the 
idea of this something existent. This is the universal belief, 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 75 

which implies the distinction between qualities and the subject 
of qualities, between accidents and substance. 

Attributes, accidents, phenomena ; — being, substance, sub- 
ject, — these are the generalizations drawn from the two in- 
contestible facts of my belief in my own personal existence, 
and my belief in the existence of an external world. 

Now every thing which has been said of body and space, 
of succession and time, of the finite and the infinite, of con- 
sciousness and personal identity, all this may be said of attri- 
bute and subject, of qualities and substance, of phenomena 
and being. When we inquire concerning the origin of the 
idea of phenomena, of quality, of attribute, if the question be 
concerning an attribute of an external substance, the idea is 
given by the senses ; if concerning an attribute of the mind, 
the idea is given by consciousness. But as to the substance 
itself, whether material or spiritual, it is not given either by 
sense or consciousness ; it is a revelation of the reason in the 
exercise of sense and consciousness ; just as space and time, 
infinity and personal identity, are revealed to us by the reason 
in the exercise of the sensibility, the consciousness and the 
memory. In fine, as body, succession, the finite, variety, 
logically involve the supposition of space, time, infinity and 
unity ; so in the order of reason and nature (the logical order) 
it is evident, that attribute and accident involve the supposition 
of subject and substance. But it is not less evident that in 
the order of the acquisition of our ideas, (the chronological 
order,) the idea of attribute and accident is the necessary con- 
dition of arriving at that of substance and subject ; just as in 
this same order, the idea of body, of succession, of number, 
of variety, is the condition of the idea of space, of time, of 
infinity, of identity. — It remains to see what place the idea of 
substance occupies in the system of Locke. 

" I confess, says he, B. I. ch. IV. § 18, there is one idea 
which would be of general use for mankind to have, as it is 
of general talk, as if they had it : and that is the idea of sub- 
stance, which we neither have nor can have by sensation or 
reflection." Locke, then, systematically denies the idea of sub- 



78 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

stance. Unquestionably many passages might be cited, in 
which he impUcitly admits it ; but openly he repels it, in one 
place as " of little use in philosophy," B. IL ch. XIIL § 19 ; — 
in another, as obscure : " we have no clear idea of substance 
in generalj^^ B. II. ch. XXIII. § 4. But take away from 
substance this characteristic of abstraction and generality ; 
restore it to reality ; and then substance is self, or is body. 
What then ! can we say that the idea is of little use in philo- 
sophy ; that is, does the belief of my personal identity, and 
the belief of an external world, play but an insignificant part 
in my understanding and in human life ? Unquestionably to 
the senses, as well as to consciousness, all substance is ob- 
scure ; for no substance, material or spiritual, is in itself a 
proper object of sense or of consciousness. But to reason, we 
say again as before, it is not obscure. The idea of substance 
is the proper object of reason, which has its own objects, and 
reveals them to us with as much evidence as consciousness 
and the senses attest their objects. 

Locke, however, every where repels the idea of substance, 
and when he oflicially explains it, he resolves it into a collec- 
tion of simple ideas of sensation, or of reflection. B. II. ch. 

XXIII. § 3, 4, 6 : " no other idea of substances than 

what is framed by a collection of simple ideas." It is by 

such combinations of simple ideas, and nothing else, that we 
represent particular sorts of substances to ourselves." § 37. 
" Recapitulation. All our ideas of the several sorts of sub- 
stances, are nothing but collections of simple ideas, with a 
supposition of something to which they belong, and in which 
they subsist ; though of this supposed something we have no 
clear distinct idea at all." And he declares that we know 
nothing of matter but the aggregate of its quahties, and 
nothing of mind but the aggregate of its operations. Nothing 
can be more true than this in a certain respect. It is indubi- 
table that we know nothing of mind but what its operations 
teach us concerning k, and nothing of matter but what its 
qualities teach us of it ; just as we have already granted that 
we know nothing of time save that which succession teaches 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 77 

us of it, nor of space, save that which body teaches, nor of the 
infinite, save that which the finite teaches, nor of self, save that 
which consciousness teaches. Body is the sole measure of 
space, succession of time, the finite of the infinite, the opera- 
tions of consciousness of our identity ; and just so, attributes 
and quaUties are the sole measures and the only signs of sub- 
stances, whether material or spiritual. But because we do not 
know any thing of a thing except what another thing teach- 
es us concerning it, it does not follow that the former thing is 
the latter. Because it is only by the aggregate of its qualities 
that substance manifests itself, it does not follow that substance 
?s nothing but an aggregate of those qualities. It is evident 
that the aggregate of quahties into which Locke resolves sub- 
stance, is altogether impossible without the supposition of sub- 
stance. Royer-CoUard has perfectly exposed the various as- 
pects of this impossibility.* I shall bring fonvard but a single 
one. Among all conditions w^hich are requisite to the possi- 
bility of this aggregate, look at one which is clearly unques- 
tionable : it is that there should be some person, some mind, to 
make this collection, this combination. Numbers placed under 
each other do not make addition ; arithmetic does not itself 
perform the whole, it demands an arithmetician. Now Locke, 
by denying substance, has destroyed the arithmetician neces- 
sary in order to make this addition. The human mind no 
longer exists as an integrating unity, capable of finding the 
sum of the different quantities of which the collection is to be 
composed. But pass over this radical difficulty, and suppose 
that a collection is possible without some person, some mind, 
to make it. Suppose it made and made of itself. What will 
it be ? All that a mere collection can be : a class, a genus, 
an abstraction, that is to say, a word. See, then, to what you 
ultimately arrive. Without speaking of God, who is, however, 
the substance of substances, the being of beings ; behold 
mind, behold matter reduced to words. The scholastic philo- 
sophy had converted many collections into substances, many 

* See Appendix, Note M. 
8 



78 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

general words into entities ; but by a contrary extravagance, 
Locke has converted substance into collection, and made all 
things to be words. This I mean is the necessary conse- 
quence of his system. Admitting none but ideas explicable 
by sensation or reflection, and being unable to explain the 
idea of substance either by the one or the other, he was ne- 
cessarily led to deny it, to resolve it into a combination of the 
simple ideas of qualities^ which are easily attained by sensa- 
tion or reflection, and which his system admits and explains. 
Hence the systematic identification of substance and qualities, 
of being and phenomena, that is to say, the destruction of 
being, and consequently of beings. Nothing exists in itself, 
neither God, nor the world, neither you, nor myself Every 
thing resolves itself into phenomena, into abstractions, into 
words ; and singular enough, it is the very fear of abstractions, 
and of verbal entities, the ill-understood taste for reality, that 
carries Locke into an absolute nominalism which ends in ab- 
solute nihilism, 

I shall pursue the examination of the second book of the 
Essay on the Human Understanding, and shall take up the 
idea of cause, and the idea of good and evil. 



CRITICAL EXAMINATION 

OF 

LOCKE'S ESSAY 

ON 

THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 



CHAPTER FOURTH. 



CONTENTS OF CHAPTER FOURTH. 

General remarks on the foregoing results. — Continuation of the ex- 
amination of the Second Book of the Essay on the Human Under- 
standing. Of the idea of Cause. — Origin in sensation. Refutation. — 
Origin in reflection and the sentiment of the Will. Distinction between 
the idea of Cause, and the Principle of Causality. — That the principle 
of causahty is inexplicable by the sentiment of will. — Of the true 
formation of the principle of Causality. 



CHAPTER IV. 

The first fault of Locke in respect to the ideas of space, 
of time, of the infinite, of personal identity, and of substance, 
is a fault of method. Instead of investigating and ascertain- 
ing, at the outset, by impartial observation, the characteristics 
which these ideas actually display in the human understand- 
ing, Locke begins with the exceedingly obscure and difficult 
question concerning the origin of those ideas. Then he re- 
solves this question in respect to those ideas, by his general 
system concerning the origin of ideas, which consists in ad- 
mitting no idea that is not formed by sensation, or by reflec- 
tion. Now the ideas of space, of time, of the infinite, of per- 
sonal identity, and of substance, with the characteristics by 
which they are undeniably marked, are inexplicable by sen- 
sation and reflection, and by consequence, incompatible with 
the system of Locke. There remained, then, but one re- 
source : to mutilate those ideas with their attributes, so as to 
reduce them to the measure of other ideas which really do 
come from sensation or reflection ; for example, the ideas of 
body, of succession, of number, of the direct phenomena of 
consciousness and memory, of the attributes of outward ob- 
jects and of our own attributes. 

But we believe we have shown that these latter ideas, while 
they are indeed the condition, [the necessary occasion,] of the 
acquisition of the former ideas, are nevertheless not the same 
as the former ; — they are the chronological antecedent, but not 
the logical reason of them, they precede, but do not engender 
nor explain them. Thus facts distorted and confused, save 
the system of Locke ; re-established and distinguished with 
clearness, they overthrow it. 

These observations are equally and specially applicable to 
the theory of one of the most important ideas in the human 
8* 



82 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

understanding, the idea which figures most in human hfe, and 
in the books of philosophers ; I mean the idea of Cause. It 
would have been wise in Locke to have begun by recognizing 
and describing this idea exactly as it is, and as it is manifest- 
ed by our actions and speech. But far from this, Locke begins 
by investigating the origin of the idea of cause, and without 
hesitation refers it to sensation ; this will be seen by the fol- 
lowing passage : 

B. 11. ch. XX VL § 1. — Of cause and effect. Whence 
their ideas got. " In the notice that our senses take of the 
constant vicissitude of things, we cannot but observe, that 
several particular, both qualities and substances, begin to ex- 
ist ; and that they receive this theii existence from the due 
application and operation of some other being. From this 
observation we get our ideas of cause and effect. That which 
produces any simple or complex ideas, we denote by the gene- 
ral name, cause; and that which is produced, effect. Thus 
finding that in that substance which we call wax, fluidity, 
which is a simple idea that was not in it before, is constantly 
produced by the application of a certain degree of heat ; we 
call the simple idea of heat, in relation to fluidity in wax, the 
cause of it, and fluidity, the effect. So also, finding that the 
substance wood, which is a certain collection of simple ideas 
so called, by the application of fire is turned into another sub- 
stance called ashes, that is, another complex idea, consisting 
of a collection of simple ideas quite different from that com- 
plex idea which we call wood ; we consider fire, in relation to 
ashes, as the cause, and ashes as effect." § 2 : " Having 
thus, from what our senses are able to discover in the opera- 
tions of bodies on one another, got the notion of cause and 
effect ." 

This is positive. The idea of cause has its origin in sensa- 
tion. Such clearly is the theory of Locke ; it remains to ex- 
amine it. And first of all, since the question is whether sen- 
sation gives us the idea of cause, we must guard against 
taking for granted the thing in question. We must abstract 
the sensation from every foreign element and interrogate that 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 83 

alone, iii order to discern what it can give relative to the idea 
of cause. 

I suppose myself then limited exclusively to sensation. 
This done, I take the example of Locke, that of a piece of 
wax which melts and passes into a Uquid state by contact 
with fire. Now what is there in this for the senses, to which 
alone I am confined ? There is first two phenomena, the 
wax and the fire, in contact with each other. Of this the 
senses inform me ; they inform, moreover, of a modification in 
the wax which was not there before. A moment before, they 
showed me the wax in one state ; now they show me it in a 
diflferent state ; and this different state they show me at the 
same time that they show, or immediately after they have 
shown me the presence of another phenomenon, namely, the 
fire : or in other words, the senses show me the succession of 
one phenomenon to another. Do the senses show me any 
thing more ? I do not see that they do, and Locke does not 
pretend that they do ; for according to him, the senses give 
us the idea of cause in the observation of the constant vicissi- 
tude of things. Now the vicissitude of things is clearly the 
succession of phenomena to each other. Let this succession 
re-appear sometimes, or frequently, or even constantly ; you 
will have a constant succession ; but whether constant and 
perpetual, or limited to a very few cases, the nature of the suc- 
cession is clearly not altered by the number. Succession is 
never any thing but succession. Thus the constant vicissi- 
tude of things at the bottom resolves itself into their vicissi- 
tude, which is nothing but their succession. I agree with 
Locke that the senses give me this succession, and Locke 
does not pretend that they give me any thing more. The 
only question between us then, is to ascertain whether the 
succession, rare or constant, of two phenomena, explains, ex- 
hausts the idea of cause. If it does, then the senses give us 
the idea of cause ; otherwise not. This is the true and the 
only question. 

I ask, then, whether if a phenomenon succeeds another, and 
succeeds it constantly, the latter is tlie cause ? Is it all the 



84 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

idea you form of cause ? When you say, when you think, 
that the fire is the cause of the fluidity of the wax, I put it to 
you, whether you merely understand that the phenomenon of 
fluidity succeeds the phenomenon of the contact of fire ? I 
put it to you w^hether you do not believe, whether the whole 
human race do not believe, that there is in the fire an incom- 
prehensible something, an unknown something, which it is 
not our object here to determine, but to which you refer the 
production of the phenomenon of fluidity in the wax. I put 
it to you, whether the conception of a phenomenon appearing 
after another phenomenon, is not one thing, and the conception 
of a certain property in a phenomenon which produces the 
modification testified by the senses in the phenomenon that 
follows, another thing. 

I will take an example often employed and which expresses 
perfectly well the difference between succession, and the rela- 
tion of cause and effect. I will suppose that I wish at this 
moment to hear a melody, a succession of musical sounds, and 
scarcely is my volition complete, when that succession of 
sounds is heard from a neighbouring apartment and strikes 
my ear. There is nothing in this but a relation of succession. 
But suppose that I will to produce those sounds, and that I do 
produce.them myself ; do I in this case predicate nothing, be- 
tween my volition and the sounds, but the relation of succes- 
sion, which I predicated in the former case between my voli- 
tion and the accidental sounds ? Do I not in this case, be- 
sides the evident relation of succession, put another relation 
still, and one altogether different ? Is it not evident that in 
the last case, I believe not only that the first phenomenon, the 
will, preceded the second, the sounds ; but moreover, that the 
first phenomenon produced the second, — in short, that my will 
is the cause, and the sounds the effect ? This is undeniable ; 
it is undeniable, that in certain cases, we perceive between 
two phenomena only the relation of succession, and that in 
certain other cases, we predicate of them the relation of cause 
to the effect ; and that these two relations are not identical. 
The conviction of every one, and the universal belief of the 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 85 

human race, leave no doubt on this subject. Our acts are 
not only phenomena which appear in a sequence to the ope- 
ration of volition ; they are judged by us, and recognized by 
others, as the direct effects of our vohtions. From hence, 
moral imputation, and judicial imputation, and three quarters 
of human Ufe and conduct. If there is nothing but a rela- 
tion of succession, between the action of the murderer and 
the death of his victim, then the universal belief and the 
whole structure of civil society, is nothing. For civil life is 
founded upon the hypothesis, universally admitted, that man 
is a cause ; as the science of nature is also founded upon the 
hypothesis that external bodies are causes, that is, have proper- 
ties which can and do produce effects. From the fact, then, 
that the senses give us the succession of phenomena, their suc- 
cession more or less constant, it does not follow that they ex- 
plain that connection of phenomena, far more intimate and 
profound, which we call the relation of cause and effect ; and 
consequently they do not explain the origin of the idea of 
cause. As to the rest, I refer you to Hume, who has perfectly 
distinguished vicissitude, that is succession, from causation, 
and completely demonstrated that the latter cannot come from 
sensation.* Enough has been shown to ruin the theory of 
Locke concerning the origin of the idea of cause from sensa- 
tion. 

But this is not all. Not only is there in the human mind 
the idea of cause ; not only do we believe ourselves to be the 
causes of our own acts, and that certain bodies are often the 
cause of the movement of other bodies ; but we judge in a 
general manner that no phenomenon can begin to exist, 
whether in space or in time, without haviifg a cause. There 
is here something more than an idea, there is a principle ; and 
the principle is as incontrovertible as the idea. Imagine a 
movement, any change whatever, and the moment you con- 
ceive of this change, this movement, you cannot help suppo- 
sing that it was made in virtue of some cause. It is not our 

* See Appendix, Note N. 



86 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

object to inquire what this cause is, what its nature, or how it 
produced such a change ; the only question is whether the 
human mind can conceive of a change, a movement, without 
conceiving that it is produced by virtue of a cause. Here is 
the foundation of human curiosity, which seeks for a cause for 
every phenomenon, and of the judicial action of society, which 
intervenes as soon as any phenomenon appears in which so- 
ciety is concerned. An assassination, a murder, a theft, any 
phenomenon which falls within the scope of the Law, being 
given, an author of it is instantly presumed, a thief, a mur- 
derer, or an assassin, is presumed, and inquisition is made ; 
nothing of which would be done, if it was not a decided im- 
possibility for the human mind not to conceive of a cause 
wherever there is a phenomenon which begins to exist. Ob- 
serve, I do not say there is no effect without a cause, for evi- 
dently this is a frivolous proposition, of which one term in- 
volves the other, and expresses the same idea in a different 
manner. The word effect being relative to the word cause, 
to say that the effect supposes the cause is to say nothing but 
that the effect is an effect. But we do not make an identical 
or frivolous proposition, when we say that every phenomenon 
which begins to exist necessarily has a cause. The two terms 
of this proposition : commencing phenomenon, and cause, do 
not reciprocally contain each other, they are not identical ; 
and yet the human mind decides and puts a necessary con- 
nection between them. This is what we call the principle of 
causality. 

This principle is real, certain, undeniable. What now are 
its attributes ? First, then, it is universal. Is there a human 
being, a savage, a* child, an idiot even, provided he is not en- 
tirely one, who, in the case of a phenomenon beginning to ex- 
ist, does not instantly suppose a cause of it ? True, indeed, 
if no phenomenon is given, if we have not the idea of some 
change, we do not suppose, we cannot suppose a cause; for 
where neither term is known, what relation can be appre- 
hended ? But it is a fact that in this case a single term being 
given, the supposition of the other, and of their relation is in- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 87 

volvedj and that universally. There is not a single case in 
which we do not thus judge. 

Still more : not only do we thus decide in all cases, natural- 
ly and in the instinctive exercise of our understanding ; but to 
decide otherwise is impossible ; a phenomenon being given, 
endeavor to suppose there is no cause of it. You cannot. 
The principle, then, is not only universal ; it is also necessary. 
From whence I conclude it is not derived from the senses. 
For even if it should be granted that the senses might give 
the universal, it is evident that they cannot give the necessary. 
For the senses give that which appears, or even that which is, 
such as it is or appears, phenomena with their incidental 
characteristics ; but it is repugnant to suppose that they can 
give that which ought to be, the reason of 3/ phenomenon, 
still less its necessary reason. 

It is so far from being true, that the senses and the external 
world give us the principle of causality, that were it not for 
the intervention of this principle, the external world from 
which Locke derives it, would have for us no existence. In 
fact, suppose that a phenomenon could begin to appear in time 
or in space without your being necessarily led to suppose a 
cause. When a phenomenon of sensation appeared under 
the eye of consciousness, not conceiving or supposing a cause 
for this phenomenon, you, would not seek for any thing to 
which to refer it ; you would rest in the phenomenon itself, 
that is, in a simple phenomenon of consciousness, that is, 
again, in a modification of yourselves ; you would not go out 
of yourselves. You would never attain the external world. 
For what is it that is necessary in order for you to attain the 
external world and suspect its existence? It is necessary 
that, a sensation being given, you should be forced to ask 
yourselves, what is the cause of this new phenomenon, and 
also that under the two-fold impossibility of referring it to your- 
selves and of not referring it to some cause, you are forced to 
refer to a cause other than yourselves, to a foreign cause, to an 
external cause. The idea of an external cause of our sensa- 
tions, is, then, the fundamental idea of a without, of outward 



88 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

objects, of bodies, and of the world. I do not say that the 
world, bodies, external objects, are nothing more than a cause 
of certain sensations in us ; but I say that at first they are 
given us as causes of our sensations, under this condition, and 
by this title. Afterwards, or, if you please, at the same time, 
we add to this property of objects other properties still. But it 
is upon this, that all the others which we subsequently learn, 
are founded. Take away the principle of causahty, the sen- 
sation remains under the eye of consciousness, and reveals to 
us only its relation to the self, the me, which experiences it, 
without revealing to us that which produced it, the not-self 
the not-me, external objects, the world. It is commonly said, 
and philosophers even join with the vulgar in saying, that the 
senses discover >the world to us. This is right, if it is meant 
merely to say, that without the senses, without sensation, with- 
out the previous phenomenon, the principle of causality would 
lack the basis [the condition, the occasion] for attaining exter- 
nal causes, so that we should never conceive the world. But 
we aie completely deceived, if we understand that it is the 
senses themselves, directly and by their own force, Avithout the 
intervention of the reason, or any foreign principle, which 
make us acquainted with the external world. To know in 
general,' to know whatever be the object, is beyond the reach 
of the senses. It is the reason, and the reason alone, which 
knows, and which knows the world ; and it does not know 
the world at first but in the character of a cause. It is for us, 
primarily, nothing but the cause of the sensitive phenomena 
which we cannot refer to ourselves ; and we should not search 
for this cause, and consequently should not find it, if our rea- 
son were not provided with the principle of causahty, if we 
could suppose that a phenomenon might begin to appear on 
the theatre of consciousness, of time or of space, without having 
a cause. The principle of causality, then, I am not afraid to 
say, is the father of the external world, instead of its being 
possible to deduce it from the world and make it come fi-om 
sensation. When we speak of external objects and of the 
world, without previously admitting the principle of causality, 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 89 

either we know not what we affirm, or we are guilty of a pa- 
ralogism. 

The result of this whole discussion is : that if the question 
be about the idea of cause, we cannot find it in the succession 
of outward and sensible phenomena ; that succession is the 
condition, [the necessary occasion] of the conception of cause, 
its chronological antecedent, but not its principle and its logi- 
cal reason : If the question be, not merely about the idea of 
cause, but concerning the principle of causality, this principle 
still more escapes from every attempt to explain it by succes- 
sion and sensation. — In the first case, in regard to the idea of 
cause, Locke confounds the antecedent of an idea with the 
idea itself ; and in the second case, in regard to the principle 
of causahty, he derives from the phenomena of the outward 
world precisely the principle without which there would be for 
us no outward, no world. He takes for granted the very 
thing in question. He no longer confounds the antecedent 
with the consequent, but the consequent with the antecedent, 
the consequence with its principle. For the principle of cau- 
sality is the necessary foundation of even the slightest know- 
ledge of the outward world, of the feeblest suspicion of its ex- 
istence. To explain the principle of causality by the specta- 
cle of the world, which can be given only by the principle of 
causality, is, as we have said, to explain the principle by the 
consequence. Now the idea of cause and the principle of 
causality, are undeniable facts in the human mind ; conse- 
quently the system of Locke, which obliges him to receive, in 
their stead, merely the idea of succession, of constant succes- 
sion, does not account for facts, nor explain the human mind. 

But is there nothing more in Locke on the great question 
of cause ? Has Locke never assigned to the idea of cause 
another origin than sensation 7 You are not to expect firom 
our philosopher perfect self-consistency ? I have already told 
you, and I shall have frequent occasion to repeat it, nothing is 
less consistent than Locke. Contradictions occur not only 
from book to book, in his Essay ; but from chapter to chap- 
ter, and almost from paragraph to paragraph. I have already 
9 



90 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

cited the positive passage, B. IL ch. XXVL in which Locke 
derives the idea of cause from sensation. Well now, let iis 
turn over a few pages, and we shall find him forgetting both 
his fundamental assertion, and the particular examples, all 
physical, produced to justify it ; and concluding, to the gieat 
astonishment of the attentive reader, that the idea of cause 
no longer comes fiom sensation solely, but from sensation, or, 

from reflection, ch. XXYI. § 2, " In which and all 

other cases, we may observe that the notion of cause and 
effect has its rise from sensation or reflection ; and that this 
relation, how comprehensive soever, terminates at last in 
them." This or is now nothing less than a new theory. 
Hitherto Locke had not said a word about reflection. It is an 
evident contradiction with the passage I have before cited. 
But is this contradiction thrown in here at hazard, and after- 
ward abandoned and lost ? In regard to the twenty-sixth 
chapter, the answer is, yes ; in regard to the entire work, no. 
Read another chapter of this same second Book, chapter 
XXI., On Power. At the bottom, a chapter on power is a 
chapter on cause. For what is power, but the power to pro- 
duce something, that is, a cause ?* To treat of power, then, 
is to treat of cause. Now what is the origin of the idea of 
power, according to Locke, in the chapter expressly devoted 
to this inquiry ? It is, as in chapter twenty-sixth, at once sen- 
sation and reflection. 

B. II. ch. XXI. Of Power. § 1. This idea how got. 
" The mind being every day informed, by the senses, of the 
alteration of those simple ideas it observes in things without, 
and taking notice how one comes to an end, and ceases to be, 
and another begins to exist which was not before ; reflecting 
also on what passes within itself, and observing a constant 
change of its ideas, sometimes by the impression of outward 
objects on the senses, and sometimes by the determination of 
its own choice ; and concluding, from what it has so constant- 

* The famous Essay of Hume on cause is entitled, Of the Idea of 
Power. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 91 

ly observed to have been, that the Uke changes will for the 
future be made in the same things by like agents, and by like 
ways ; considers in one thing the possibility of having any of 
its simple ideas changed, and in another the possibility of ma- 
king that change ; and so comes by that idea which we call 
power." 

Of these two origins, I have demonstrated that the first, 
namely sensation, is insufficient to account for the idea of 
cause, that is to say, of power. It remains, then, to examine 
the second origin. But this second origin, does it precede, or 
follow the first ? We derive, according to Locke, the idea of 
cause, both from sensation, and from reflection. But from 
which of these do we derive it first ? It is one of the eminent 
merits of Locke, as I have before noted, that he has shown 
in the question concerning time, that the first succession which 
reveals to us the idea of time, is not the succession of external 
events, but the succession of our own thoughts. Here Locke 
equally says that it is from the internal and not from the ex- 
ternal, in reflection and not in sensation, that the idea of power 
is first given. It is a manifest contradiction, I grant, with his 
official chapter on cause ; but it is to the honor of Locke to 
have seen and established, even in contradiction to himself, 
tliat it is in reflection, in the consciousness of our own opera- 
tions, the first and clear idea of cause is given. I wish to 
cite this passage entire ; for it evinces a true talent for ob- 
servation, and a rare psychological sagacity. 

B. 11. ch. XXI. § 4. The clearest idea of active power 

had from spirit. " If we will consider it attentively, 

bodies by our senses, do not afford us so clear and distinct an 
idea of active power, as we have from reflection on the opera- 
tions of our own minds. For all power relating to action, 
and there being but two sorts of action whereof we have any 
idea, namely, thinking and motion ; let us consider whence 
we have the clearest ideas of the powers which produce these 
actions. 1. Of thinking, body affords us no idea at all, it is 
only from reflection that we have that. 2. Neither have we 
from body any idea of the beginning of motion. A body at 



m ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

jest affords us no idea of any active power to move ; and 
when it is set in motion itself, that motion is rather a passion, 
than an action in it. For when the ball obeys the stroke of a 
billiard stick, it is not any action of the ball, but bare passion ; 
also when by impulse it sets another ball in motion that lay in 
its way, it only communicates the motion it had received from 
another, and loses in itself so much as the other received ; 
which gives us but a very obscure idea of an active power 
moving in body, whilst we observe it only to transfer, but not 
to produce any motion. For it is but a very obscure idea of 
power which reaches not the production of the action, but the 
continuation of the passion. For so is motion, in a body im- 
pelled by another : the continuation of the alteration made in 
it from rest to motion, being little more an action, than the 
continuation of the alteration of its figure by the same blow, 
is an action. The idea of the beginning of motion, we have 
only from reflection on what passes in ourselves, where we 
find by experience, that barely by wiUing it, barely by a 
thought of the mind, we can move the parts of our bodies, 
which were before at rest. So that it seems to me, we have 
from the observation of the operation of bodies by our senses, 
but a very imperfect, obscure idea of active power, since they 
afford us- not any idea of power in themselves to begin any ac- 
tion, either motion or thought." 

Locke seems to have felt indeed that he contradicted him- 
self ; so he adds : " But if, from the impulse, bodies are observ- 
ed to make one upon another, any one thinks he has a clear 
idea of power, it serves as well to my purpose, sensation being 
one of those ways whereby the mind comes by its ideas : only 
I thought it worth while to consider here, by the way, wheth- 
er the mind doth not receive its idea of active power clearer 
from reflection on its own operations, than it doth from any 
external sensation." 

Now this power of action, of which we have from reflec- 
tion that distinct idea which sensation alone could not give us. 
what is it ? It is that of the will. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 93 

B. n. ch. XXL § 5. " This at least, I think evident, that 
we find in ourselves a power to begin or forbear, continue or 
end several actions of our minds, and motions of our bodies, 
barely by a thought or preference of the mind ordering, or b^ it 
were, commanding the doing or not doing such or such a par- 
ticular action. This power which the mind has thus to order 
the consideration of any idea, or the forbearing to consider it ; 
or to prefer the motion of any part of the body to its rest, and 
vice versa in any particular instance, is that which we call 
the will. The actual exercise of that power, by directing any 
particular action, or its forbearance, is that which we call wil- 
ling, or volition. The forbearance of that action, consequent 
to such order or command of the mind, is called voluntary ; 
and whatsoever action is performed without such a thought of 
the mind, is called involiintary?^ 

We have here, then, the will considered as an active power, 
as a productive energy, and consequently as a cause. This 
is the germe of the beautiful theory of M. de Biran, concern- 
ing the origin of the idea of cause. According to de Biran, 
as according to Locke, the idea of cause is not given us in the 
observation of external phenomena, which, regarded solely by 
the senses, do not manifest to us any causative energy, and 
appear only as successive ; but it is given from within, in re- 
flection, in the consciousness of our operations, and of the 
power which produces them, namely, the will. I make an 
effort to move my arm ; and I move it. When we analyze 
attentively this phenomenon of effort, which M. de Biran con- 
siders as the type of the phenomena of the will, we have the 
following elements : 1. the consciousness of a voluntary act ; 
2. the consciousness of a motion produced ; 3. a relation, a 
reference of the motion to the voluntary act. And what is 
this relation ? Evidently it is not a simple relation of succes- 
sion. Repeat in yourselves the phenomena of effort, and you 
will find that you all with perfect conviction attribute the pro- 
duction of the motion of which you are conscious, to a previ- 
ous voluntary operation of which you are also conscious. For 
you, the will is not merely a pure act, without efficiency ] it is 
9* 



94 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

a productive energy, in such sort, that in it is given the idea of 
a cause. 

Still more. This motion, of which you are conscious, 
which you all refer as an effect, to the previous operation of 
the will, as the producing operation, the cause, — do you, I ask, 
refer this motion to any other will than your own ? Do you, 
or could you, consider this will as the will of another, as the 
will of your neighbour, of Alexander, or Caesar, or of any 
superior or foreign power ? Or, for you, is it not your own ? 
Do you not always impute every voluntary act to yourselves ? 
Is it not, in a word, from the consciousness of your will, as 
your own, that you derive the idea of your personahty, the 
idea of yourselves. The distinguishing merit of M. de Biran 
is in having established that the will is the constituent char- 
acteristic of personality. He has gone farther, — too far per- 
haps. As Locke confounded consciousness and memory with 
personality and identity of self, M. de Biran has gone even so 
far as to confound the will with personality itself It is cer- 
tainly the eminent characteristic of it ; and from hence it 
follows, that the idea of cause, which unquestionably is given 
in the consciousness of the producing will, is given by it in 
the consciousness of our own personahty, and that we our- 
selves are the first cause of which we have any knowledge. 

In short, this cause, which is ourselves, is implied in every 
fact of consciousness. The necessary condition of every 
phenomenon perceived by the consciousness, is that we pay 
attention to it. If we do not bestow our attention, the phe- 
nomenon may perhaps still exist, but the consciousness not 
connecting itself with it, and not taking knowledge of it, it is 
for us a non-existence. Attention then is the condition of 
every apperception of consciousness. Now attention, as I 
have more than once shown, is the will. The condition, then, 
of every phenomenon of consciousness, and of course of the 
first phenomenon, as of all others, is the will ; and as the 
will is a causative power, it follows that in the first fact of con- 
sciousness, and in order that this fact may take place, there 
must necessarily be the apperception of our personal causality 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 95 

in the will ; from whence it follows again that the idea of cause 
is the primary idea, that the apperception of ourselves is the 
first of all apperceptions, and the condition of all the others. 

Such is the theory which M. de Biran has raised upon that 
of Locke.* I adopt it. I believe that it perfectly accounts 
for the origin of the idea of cause. But it remains to inquire 
whether the idea of cause springing from this origin and from 
the sentiment of voluntary and personal activity, suffices to 
explain the idea which all men have of external causes, and 
to explain the principle of causality. For Locke, who treats 
of the idea of cause, but never of the principle of causality, 
the problem did not even exist. M. de Biran, who scarcely 
proposes it, resolves it by far too rapidly, and arrives at once to 
a result which sound psychology and sound logic cannot ac- 
cept. 

According to M. de Biran, after we have derived the idea of 
cause from the sentiment of our own personal activity, in the 
phenomena of effort, of which we are conscious, we transfer 
this idea outwardly, we project it into the external world, by 
virtue of an operation which, with Royer-CoUard, he has call- 
ed natural induction.^ Let us understand. If by this, M. 
de Biran means merely that before knowing external causes 
of any kind, we first derive the idea of cause from ourselves, I 
grant it. But I deny that the knowledge which we have of 
external causes is a transferral, a projection, an induction of 
ours. In fact this induction could not take place but under 
conditions which are in manifest contradiction with facts and 
with reason. I request here all your attention. 

According to Locke and to M. de Biran, it is reflection, con- 
sciousness, which gives us the first idea of cause. But what 
idea of cause does it give us ? I answer, and wish it to be 
specially noticed, that it gives us, not the idea of cause in the 
abstract, in general, but the idea of a self^ a we, which wills, 
and which, by willing, produces, and thereby is a cause. The 
idea of cause which consciousness gives us, is, then, an idea 

* See Appendix Note 0. t See Appendix, Note P. 



96 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

altogether particular, individual and determinate, since it is to 
us altogether personal. Every thing which we know of cause 
by consciousness, is concentrated in personality. It is this per- 
sonahty, and in this personahty the will, and the will alone, 
which is the power, the cause revealed in consciousness. This 
being laid down, let us next see what are the conditions of in- 
duction. Induction is the supposition that in certain circum- 
stances, a phenomenon, a law, having been given us, the 
same phenomenon, the same law, will take place in analogous 
cases. Induction then implies: 1. the supposition of analo- 
gous cases, that is, of cases more or less different ; 2. the sup- 
position of a phenomenon which is to continue to take place 
the same in both cases. Induction is the process of the mind 
which having hitherto observed a phenomenon only in certain 
cases, transfers this phenomenon ; this phenomenon, observe, 
and not another, that is the same phenomenon, to different 
cases, cases necessarily different, since they are only analogous 
and similar, and cannot be absolutely identical. The charac- 
ter of induction then is precisely in the contrast of the identity 
of the phenomenon or law, and of the diversity of the circum- 
stances from which it is first derived and then transferred. If, 
then, the knowledge of external causes is only an induction 
from our own personal cause, it is in strictness our causality, 
the voluntary and free cause which ourselves constitute, that 
should be transferred by induction into the external world ; 
that is to say, whenever any motion or change begins to appear 
in time or in space, there we must suppose, not a cause in 
general, for bear in mind that we are not possessed of the gene- 
ral idea of cause, we have only the idea of our own personal 
causahty. We can only suppose what we already have, other- 
wise it would no longer be the proper and legitimate process of 
induction. We shall be led to suppose, then, not the abstract 
and general idea of cause, but the particular and determinate 
idea of a particular and determinate cause, to wit, ourselves. 
From whence it follows that it is our own causality we should 
be obliged to suppose wherever a phenomenon begins to ap- 
pear : that is to say, all causes subsequently conceived by us, 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 97 

are and can be nothing but our own personality, the sole and 
only cause of all the effects, accidents, or events, which begin 
to appear. And bear in mind, that the behef in the external 
world and in external causes, is universal and necessary. All 
men have it ; all men cannot but have it. As soon as any 
phenomenon begins to appear, all men believe, think, judge, 
that there are external causes present, and they cannot but so 
judge. If, then, induction explains our whole idea of external 
causes, this induction must be universal and necessary. It 
must be, that is, an universal and necessary fact, that we be- 
lieve ourselves to be the cause of all the events, movements and 
changes which take place, or can take place. 

Thus in strictness, the induction, the transfer of our own 
casuality without ourselves, is nothing but the substitution of 
human hberty for destiny, and perhaps strictly the creation of 
the world by humanity. If we do not carry it this length, we 
misconceive the true nature and extent of induction ; and I 
urge this consequence upon the system of M. de Biran as its 
legitimate and necessary consequence. 

My excellent friend would undoubtedly resist this conse- 
quence as forced and exaggerated ; but there is one which he 
would be forced to accept, and which he does almost accept. 
If external causes aje nothing but an induction from our own 
caudal power, and if nevertheless we are unwilling to allow 
that they are our very selves, it must at least be conceded that 
they are of the same kind as ourselves ; if they are not our 
own, they are as our own ; personal, conscious, voluntary, in- 
tentional, free, living, and living the same life with us, intel- 
lectual and moral. In fact, without pretending that this is 
our whole conception of external causes, M. de Biran main- 
tains that such is the conception which we form of them at 
first. And he gives in proof of it that children, and savages, 
who are but grown children, conceive of all external causes 
after the model of their own causal power ; that hence the 
child is angry at the stone which hurt him, as if it had the 
intention of hurting him ; and the savage personifies and 
deifies the causes of external phenomena. 



98 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

To this I reply : we are not to forget that the belief in the 
external world and in external causes, is universal and neces- 
sary ; and that the fact which explains it ought itself to be 
universal and necessary. Hence it follows, that if our belief 
in the outward world and in external causes resolves itself into 
the assimilation of these causes to ourselves, this assunilation 
ought likewise to be universal and necessary. Now at this 
point I have recourse to psychology ; I recur to it to determine 
whether all intellectual and moral beings conceive of external 
causes as animated and conscious. I look to psychology, 
and require it to prove that this opinion of children and of 
savages, is not only a frequent fact, but an universal fact ; 
that there is not a child nor a savage, who does not at first 
form this conception. And it must prove also that this is not 
only universal, but necessary. Now the character of a neces- 
sary fact is, that it continues without ceasing ; the necessity of 
an idea, of a law, imphes the supremacy of that idea, that 
law, throughout the whole extent of duration, as long as the 
human mind subsists. Now, even if I should grant that all 
children and all savages believe at first that external causes 
are hving, free, and personal, this would not be a necessary 
fact ; for it is not an opinion which continues, which subsists 
always. We do not now believe it. It is to our credit that 
we do not. That which [by the theory in question] should 
be a necessary truth, reproduced from age to age without ex- 
ception or alteration, is for us simply an extravagance which 
exists for a short period, and then passes away never to return. 
From the fact that this supposed induction has languished for 
a single day, from this alone, we are forced to conclude that 
it is not an universal and necessary law of the human mind, 
and of course it does not explain the universal and necessary 
behef in the existence of the world and of external causes. 

We all have, we cannot but have, a perfect conviction that 
the world exists, that there are external causes. These causes 
we believe to be neither personal, nor intentional and volun- 
tary. This is the belief of the human race. It is the province 
of the philosopher to explain it, without destroying or impair- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 99 

ing it. Now if this belief is universal and necessary, the 
judgment which includes it and which gives it, ought to have 
a principle which is itself universal and necessary ; and this 
principle is nothing else than the principle of causality, a 
principle now-a-days expressed in Logic under this form: 
every phenomenon, every change, which begins to appear, 
has a cause. This principle is universal and necessary, and 
because it is so, it imparts to our belief in the existence of the 
world and of external causes, the character of universality and 
necessity, by which it is marked. Take away this principle, 
and leave the mere consciousness of our personal causality, 
and never should Ave have the least idea of external causes 
and of the world. In fact, take away the principle of causal- 
ity, and whenever a phenomenon appeared upon the theatre 
of consciousness, of which we were not the cause, there would 
no longer be a ground for our demanding a cause for the phe- 
nomenon. We should not seek for a cause. For observe, 
that even in order to the induction we have been speaking of, 
even in order for us to fall into the absurdity of assigning to 
the sensation as its cause, either ourselves, or something like 
ourselves, it is necessary to feel the need of assigning causes 
for every phenomenon ; and in order to make this induction 
universal and necessary, this feeling of need must be univer- 
sal and necessary ; in short, we must have the principle of 
causality. Thus, without the principle of causaHty, every 
phenomenon is for us without cause, [and without the notion 
of cause,] so that we cannot even attribute it to an extrava- 
gant cause. But on the contrary, assume the principle of 
causality [as potentially existing in the mind], and as soon 
as a phenomenon of sensation begins to appear on the theatre 
of consciousness, at the same instant, the principle of causality 
[actually unfolded and put in exercise by the occasion of the 
phenomenon], marks it with this character : that it cannot 
but have a cause. Now, as consciousness attests that this 
cause is not ourselves, and yet it remains not less certain that 
it must have a cause, it follows that there is a cause other 
than ourselves, and which is neither personal nor voluntary, 



100 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

and yet is a cause, that is to say, a cause simply efficient. 
Now this is precisely the idea which all men form of external 
causes. They consider them as capable of producing the mo- 
tions which they refer to them, but not as intentional and per- 
sonal causes. The universal and necessary principle of causa- 
hty, is the only principle which can give us such causes ; it 
is, then, the true and legitimate process of the human mind 
in the acquisition of the idea of the world and of external 
causes. 

Having now demonstrated that our belief in external causes 
is not an induction from the consciousness of our own personal 
cause, but a legitimate application of the principle of causahty, 
it remains to learn how we pass from the consciousness of our 
own particular causality to the conception of the general prin- 
ciple of causality. 

I admit, 1 am decidedly of opinion, that the consciousness 
of our own proper causality precedes any conception of the 
principle of causality, and of course precedes any application 
of this principle, any knowledge of external causality. In my 
judgment, the process by which, in the depths of the mind, 
the passage is made from the primary fact of consciousness 
to the ulterior fact of the conception of the principle, is this. 
I wish to move my arm, and I move it. We have seen that 
this fact when analysed, gives three elements : 1. conscious- 
ness of a volition which is my own, which is personal ; 2. a 
motion produced ; 3. and finally, a reference of this motion 
to my will, a relation which, as we have seen, is a relation of 
production, of causation ; a relation, too, which I no more call 
in question, than I do either of the two other terms ; which is 
not given me without those two terms, and without which the 
terms are not given ; so that the three terms are given in one 
single and even indivisible fact. Now what is the character of 
this fact? It is characterized by being particular, individual, 
determinate, and for this very simple reason, that the fact is 
altogether personal. This producing will is my own, and of 
course it is a will particular and determinate. Again, it is char- 
acteristic of every thing particular and determinate, to be sus- 






ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 101 

ceptible of the degrees of more or less. I myself, a voluntary 
cause, have at such a moment more or less of energy, which 
makes the motion produced by me reflect it more or less, with 
more or less force. A little while ago, the causative power dis- 
played, had such a degree of force, the motion produced had a 
corresponding degree ; now again, the causative power has less 
energy, and the motion produced is more feeble ; but does this 
last motion pertain less to me than the former ? Is there be- 
tween the cause, myself, and the effect, motion, any the less 
a relation in the one case than in the other ? Not at all ; the 
two terms may vary, and do vary perpetually, but the relation 
does not vary. Still farther : not only the individuality, the 
determinateness of the fact, if you will permit the expression, 
may vary, that is, the two particular terms may not only vary, 
but they may be altogether others, they may even not exist at 
all. It is supposable that I may not exist, that I am not a 
cause ; that I have not produced a motion, The two terms, 
in so far as they are determinate, are susceptible of the attri- 
butes of more or less, and are purely accidental ; but the rela- 
tion between these two terms determinate, variable, and con- 
tingent, is itself neither variable nor contingent. It is the 
universal and necessary part of the fact. Now the moment 
the consciousness seizes these two terms, the reason seizes their 
relation, and by an abstraction which needs not the support of 
a great number of similar facts, it disengages the invariable 
and necessary element of the fact, from its variable and con- 
tingent elements. Make the attempt to call this relation in 
question. You cannot ; no human intelligence can succeed 
in the attempt. Whence it follows, that this truth is an univer- 
sal and necessary truth. Reason, then, is subjected to this 
truth. It is under an impossibility of not supposing a cause, 
whenever the senses or the consciousness reveal any motion, 
any phenomenon. Now this impossibility, to which reason is 
subjected, of not supposing a cause for every phenomenon re- 
ealed in sense and consciousness, is what we call the principle 
f causality ; not, indeed, in its actual logical formula, but in 
its internal primitive energy. The impossibility for us of not 
10 






102 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

conceiving a cause, in every case in which we observe the ap- 
pearance of a phenomenon, external or internal, beginning to 
exist, is what we call the principle of causality [subjectively]. 
If it be asked, how the universal and the necessary are found 
in the relative and the contingent, I reply that along with the 
WiU and the Senses, there is also the faculty of the Reason, and 
that it is developed sunultaneously with the former. 

What has just been said of the principle of causality, may 
be said of all the other principles. It is a fact which should 
not be forgotten, though it very often is, that our judgments 
are all at first particular and determinate, and that under this 
form of a particular and determinate judgment, all universal and 
necessary truths, all universal and necessary principles, make 
their first appearance. Thus the senses attest to me the exist- 
ence of a body, and at the instant I judge that this body is in 
space, not in space in general, not in pure space, but in a certain 
space ; it is a certain body which my senses attest, and it is in 
a certain space that reason locates it. Then when we reflect 
upon the relation between this particular body and this par- 
ticular space, we find that the relation itself is not particular, 
but universal and necessary; and when we attempt to conceive 
of a body without any space whatever, we find that we cannot. 
So also' it is in regard to time. When our consciousness or our 
senses give us any succession of events or of thoughts, we in- 
stantly judge that this succession passes in a determinate time. 
Every thing in time and succession, as they are in the primitive 
facts of sensation or of consciousness, is determinate. The ques- 
tion is of such or such a particular succession, an hour, a day, a 
year, &c. But that which is not determinate and special, is the 
relation between this succession and this time. We may vary 
the two terms ; we may vary the succession, and the time which 
embraces the succession ; but the relation of succession to time 
does not vary.* Again, it is in the same way that the prin- 
ciple of substance is given us. When a phenomenon takes 
place on the theatre of my consciousness, it is a particular and 

* See Appendi;c, Note Q. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 103 

determinate phenomenon ; and accordingly I judge, that under 
this particular phenomenon, is a being which is the subject of 
it; not a being in the abstract and general, but actual and de- 
terminate, to wit, myself. All our primitive judgments are 
personal and determinate, and yet under the depths of these 
personal and determinate judgments, there are already rela- 
tions, truths, principles, which are not personal and determi- 
nate, although they do determine and individuahze themselves 
in the determination and individuality of their terms. Such 
is the first form of the truths of Geometry and Arithmetic. 
Take, for example, two objects, and two more objects. Here 
all is determinate ; the quantities to be added are concrete, not 
discrete.* You judge that these two, and these two objects, 
make four objects. Now, what is to be noted in this judgment? 
Here again, as before, every thing is contingent and variable, 
except the relation. You can vary the objects, you can put 
pebbles in the place of these books, or hats in place of the 
pebbles, and the relation will remain unchanged and inva- 
riable. Still farther: Avhy do you judge that these two de- 
terminate objects added to these two other determinate ob- 
jects make four determinate objects ? Reflect. It is in virtue 
of this truth, namely, that two and two make four. Now, 
this truth of relation is altogether independent of the na- 
ture of the two concrete terms, whatever they may be. It is 
an abstract truth, involved and hidden in the concrete, which 
leads you to pronounce concerning the concrete, that two con- 
crete objects added to two concrete objects, make four concrete 
objects. The abstract is given in the concrete, the invariable 
and the necessary in the variable and contingent, the reason in 
sensation and consciousness. The senses attest the existence 
of concrete quantities and of bodies ; conciousness, the inter- 
nal sense, attests the presence of a succession of thoughts and 
of all the phenomena which pertain to personal identity. But 
at the same time, reason intervenes and pronounces that the 
relations of the quantities in question are abstract, universal, 

* See Appendix, Note R. 



104 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

and necessary. Reason pronounces that the relation of body 
to space is necessary ; that the relation between succession 
and time is a necessary relation ; that the relation between 
the phenomenal plurality formed by the thoughts in conscious- 
ness, and that substance, one and identical, which is at once 
the self J is a necessary relation. Thus in the birth-place of 
intelligence, the action of the senses and of consciousness is 
blended with that of reason. The senses and consciousness 
give the phenomena external and internal, the variable, the 
contingent ; reason gives us the universal and necessary truths 
blended with the accidental and contingent truths which re- 
sult directly from the apperception of the internal or external 
phenomena ; and these universal and necessary truths con- 
stitute universal and necessary principles. — Now it is with the 
principle of causaUty as with other principles. Never would 
the human mind have conceived it in its universahty and its 
necessity, if first there had not been given us a particular fact 
of causation. This primitive particular fact is that of our own 
proper and personal causality, manifested to the consciousness 
in an effort, in a voluntary act. But this does not sufiice of 
itself wholly to explain the knowledge of external causes, be- 
cause then we should have to regard external causes as only 
an induction from our own causality, that is to say, we should 
have to resolve the faith of the human race into an absurdity, 
and that a transient absurdity, which experience exposes, and 
which is now-a-days abandoned. This explanation, then, is 
inadmissible. It is necessary, then, to conceive that in the 
contingent and particular fact — I will to move my arm, and I 
move it — there is a relation of the motion as an effect to the 
voUtion as a cause, which relation, independent of the nature 
of the two terms, is seized immediately by the reason as an 
universal and necessary truth. From hence the principle of 
causahty ; and then with this principle, and only then, can 
we attain to external causes ; because the principle is broader 
than the limits of consciousness, and with it we can judge 
universally and necessarily that every phenomenon, of what- 
ever kind, has a cause. Thus armed, so to say, let a new 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 105 

phenomenon present itself, and we refer it universally and ne- 
cessaril}^ to a cause ; and that cause not being ourselves, our 
consciousness bearing witness, we do not any the less necessari- 
ly and universally judge that a cause exists, we only judge that 
it is other than ourselves, that it is foreign, external ; and 
here, to go one step farther, is the idea of exteriority^ and 
the basis of our conviction of the existence of external causes 
and of the world ; a conviction universal and necessary, be- 
cause the principle of the judgment which gives us it, is it- 
self universal and necessary. 

At the same time that we conceive of external causes, for- 
eign to ourselves, other than ourselves, not intentional, not 
voluntary, but pure causes, such as the rigorous apphcation of 
the principle of causahty affords, — it is unquestionably true, 
that the child, the savage, the human race in its infancy, 
sometimes, or even frequently, adds to this idea of exteriority 
and of cause purely efficient, the idea of a will, of a personali- 
ty analogous to our own. But obviously, because this second 
fact sometimes accompanies the first, it does not follow that 
we are to confound it with the first. In order to apprehend 
the first as a universal and necessary fact, this other fact need 
not be held universal and necessary. This I have demonstra- 
ted. To do so, results in errors and temporary superstitions 
at the very encounter with the permanent and inviolable truth 
engendered by the principle of causality. But yet the fact of 
this confusion is real ; the errors which it involves, though 
local and temporary, are undeniable. And the explanation 
of them is very simple. The principle of causality, though 
univereal and necessary, is given us at first in the contingent 
fact of the consciousness of our own causahty. When, then, 
the principle is brought into exercise, and with its own proper 
characteristics, it at the same time retains, so to say, in its first 
applications, the marks of its origin, and the belief in the ex- 
ternal world, may, for a while, be accompanied with some as- 
similation, more or less vague, of external causes to ourselves. 
Add here, as in all cases, that it is the truth which serves as 
the basis of the error ; for this arbitrary and superstitious per- 
10* 



106 ELEMENTS OP PSYCHOLOGY. 

sonification of external causes takes upon supposition the ex- 
istence of external causes, that is to say, an application of the 
principle of causality. Induction, then, misleads the principle 
of causality : but so far is induction from constituting the prin- 
ciple, that it presupposes the principle. 

Thus it is that sound psychology, determined never to 
abandon the conceptions of the human mind, such as they 
are actually found in the mind, gradually ascends to their 
true origin : while the systematic psychology of Locke, bury- 
ing itself at the outset in the question of the origin of our ideas 
and principles, before having marked with precision the un- 
doubted characters with which they are actually marked; 
and not admitting any other origin than sensation or reflec- 
tion, believes that it has found the origin of the idea of cause 
in sensation, in the simple spectacle of the external world. 
But soon forced to abandon this origin, it has recourse to 
another, namely, the origin in reflection. But this origin, 
which can indeed give us the idea of a voluntary and person- 
al cause, can give us nothing but that idea, and not the prin- 
ciple of causality ; and of course it cannot explain the origin 
of external purely eflftcient causes. If, liowever, we determine 
to rest in this narrow and insufficient origin, to what conse- 
quences' are we driven ? We are obliged to confound two 
things : the necessary and universal result — that we conceive 
of causes external to ourselves, with another fact purely acci- 
dental and transitory — that it happened to us to conceive of 
these causes as personal ; and thus we are, indeed, enabled 
to explain the knowledge of external causes by a simple in- 
duction from our own proper causality, and of course to ex- 
plain the principle of causality by reflection or consciousness, 
that is, by one of the two assumed origins of all knowledge. 
But as has been already shown, the conception of external 
causes as personal and endowed with consciousness, is nothing 
but an error found in the infancy of the human reason, and 
not a law of the reason, and by no means affords an expla- 
nation of the legitimate belief, the universal and necessary 
belief of the human race. 




ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 107 

In concluding I should perhaps ask pardon for the length 
of this discussion ; but I owed it, imperfect as it still is, both 
to the importance of the subject, and to the memory of the 
great metaphysician whose very sagacity and profoundness 
led him astray in the path of Locke. Gifted with extraor- 
dinary psychological insight, M. de Biran penetrated 
into the intimacy of the fact of consciousness by whij 
first idea of cause is given, that he scarcely diseng? 
self from that fact and that idea, and neglected too 
principle of causality ; thus confounding, as Locke hcfccl done, 
the antecedent of a principle with the principle itself And 
when he attempted to explain the principle of causality, he 
explained it by a natural induction which transfers to the 
external world consciousness, the will, and all the peculiar at- 
tributes of his model ; confounding in this way a particular, 
transient, and erroneous application of the principle of causah- 
ty, with the principle in itself, the true, universal and neces- 
sary principle, — that is to say, in fine, confounding by a 
singular error, not only the antecedent with the consequent, 
but also the consequent with the antecedent. The theory of 
M. de Biran is the developement of the theory of Locke. It 
reproduces that theory with more extent and profoundness, 
and exhausts at once both its merits and its defects.* 

* See Appendix, Note S. 



CRITICAL EXAMINATION 

OF 

LOCKE'S ESSAY 

ON 

THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 



CHAPTER FIFTH 



CONTENTS OF CHAPTER FIFTH. 

Examination of the second Book of the Essay on the Human Un- 
derstanding continued. Of the idea of Good and Evil. Refutation. 
Conclusions of the second Book. Of the formation and of the mechan- 
ism of ideas in the understanding. Of simple and complex ideas. — Of 
the activity and passivity of the mind in the acquisition of ideaa — The 
most general attributes of ideas. — Of the Association of ideas. — Ex- 
amination of the third Book of the Essay on the Understanding, con- 
cerning words. Credit due to Locke. — Examination of the following 
questions: 1. Do words derive their first origin from other words signi- 
ficant of sensible ideas ? 2. Is the signification of words purely arbitra- 
ry ? 3. Are general ideas nothing but words? Of Nominalism and 
Realism. 4. Are words the sole cause of error, and is all science only 
a well-constructed language ? — Examination of the third Book conclu- 
ded. - 



i CHAPTER V. 

It is an undeniable fact, that when we have done right or 
wrong, when we have obeyed the law of justice, or have 
broken it, we judge that we merit either reward or punishment. 
It is moreover a fact that we do indeed receive reward or pun- 
ishment ; 1. in the approbation of conscience or in the bitterness 
of remorse ; ^. in the esteem or blame of our fellow-men, 
who, themselves moral beings, judge also of good and bad as 
we do, and Uke us judge that right and wrong merit reward 
and punishment, and who do punish and reward according to 
the nature of our actions, sometimes by the moral sentence of 
their esteem or blame, sometimes by physical punishments and 
rewards, which positive laws, the legitimate interpreters of the 
law of nature, hold ready for actions ; 3. and finally, if we 
raise our thoughts beyond this world, if we conceive of God 
as we ought, not only as the author of the physical world, but 
as the Father of the moral world, as the very substance of good 
and of the moral law, we cannot but conceive that God ought 
also to hold ready rewards and punishments for those who have 
fulfilled or broken the law. But suppose that there is neither 
good nor evil, neither justice nor injustice in itself; suppose 
there is no law. There can then be no such thing as merit 
or demerit in having broken or obeyed it ; there is no place for 
reward or punishment. There is no ground for peace of con- 
science, nor for the pains of remorse. There is no ground for 
the approbation or the disapprobation of our fellow-men, for 
their esteem or their contempt. There is no ground for the 
punishments inflicted by society in this life, nor in the other, 
for those appointed by the Supreme Legislator. The idea of 
reward and punishment rests, then, upon that of merit or de- 
merit, which rests upon that of Law. Now what course does 
Locke take ? He deduces the idea of right and wrong, of 



112 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

the moral law, and all the rules of duty, from the fear and the 
hope of rewards and punishments, human or divine ; that is 
to say, (without dwelling here upon any other consideration,) 
in the strict language of scientific method, he grounds the prin- 
ciple upon the consequence ; he confounds, not as before the 
antecedent with the consequent, but the consequent with the 
antecedent. And from whence comes this confusion ? From 
that same source of all the confusion we have so many times 
signaUzed, the premature inquiry after causes, before a suffi- 
cient study of effects, the inquiry after the origin of the idea 
of right and wrong, before carefully collecting the attributes, 
and all the attributes of this idea. Permit me to dwell a mo- 
ment upon this important topic. 

First, then, the most superficial observation, provided it be 
impartial, easily demonstrates, that in the human mind, in its 
present actual developement, there is the idea of right and of 
wrong, altogether distinct the one from the other. It is a fact, 
that in the presence of certain actions, reason qualifies them as 
good or bad, just or unjust. And it is not merely in the select 
circle of the 'enlightened, that reason puts forth this judgment. 
There is not a man, ignorant or instructed, civiUzed or savage, 
provided he be a rational and moral being, who does not ex- 
ercise the same judgment. As the principle of causality errs 
and rectifies itself in its application without ceasing to exist, so 
the distinction between right and wrong may be incorrectly 
applied, may vary in regard to particular objects, and may be- 
come clearer and more correct in time, without ceasing to be 
with all men the same thing at the bottom. It is an universal 
conception of reason, and hence it is found in all languages, 
those products and faithful images of the mind. — Not only is 
this distinction universal, but it is a necessary conception. In 
vain does the reason, after having once received, attempt to 
deny it, or to call in question its truth. It cannot. One can- 
not at will regard the same action as just and unjust. These 
two ideas baffle every attempt to commute them, the one for 
the other. Their objects may change, but never their nature. 
— Still farther : reason cannot conceive the distinction be- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 113 

tween right and wrong, just and unjust, without instantly 
conceiving that the one ought to be done, and the other ought 
not to be done. The conception of right and wrong instantly 
gives that of Duty, of Law ; and as the one is universal and 
necessary, the other is equally so. Now a law necessary for 
the reason in respect to action, is, for a rational but free agent, 
a simple obligation, but it is an absolute obligation. Duty 
obhges us, though without forcing us, but at the same time, if 
we can violate it, we cannot deny it. Accordingly, even when 
the feebleness of the liberty and the ascendancy of passion, 
make the action false to the law, yet reason, independent, 
asserts the violated law as an inviolable law, and imposes it 
still with supreme authority upon the wayward conduct as its 
imprescriptible rule. The sentiment of reason and of moral 
obligation which reason reveals and imposes, is consciousness 
in its highest degree and office, it is moral consciousness, or 
Conscience properly so called. 

Observe distinctly, however, with what it is that obhgation 
has to do. It refers to right doing. It bears upon no other 
point, but there it is absolute. It is, then, independent of eve- 
ry foreign consideration ; it has nothing to do with the facili- 
ties or difficulties which its fulfilment may encounter, nor with 
the consequences it may entail, with pleasure or pain, that is, 
with happiness pr misery, that is again, with any motive of 
utility whatever. For picture and pain, happiness and mis- 
ery, are nothing but objects of sensibility ; while moral good, 
and moral obligation, are conceptions of the reason. Utility 
is but an accident, which may or may not be ; Duty is a prin- 
ciple. 

Now is not right-doing always useful to the agent and to 
others ? That is another question, to answer which, we no 
longer appeal to reason, but to experience. And does experi- 
ence always answer in the affirmative ? Even if it does, and 
if the useful be always inseparable from the good, yet the 
good and the useful are none the less distinct in themselves, 
and it is not on the ground of utility that virtue becomes obli- 
gatory, and that it obtains universal veneration and admira- 
11 



114 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

tion. It is adirdred, and that alone proves it is not taken sole- 
ly as useful. Admiration is a phenomenon which it is impos- 
sible to explain altogether by utility. 

If the good were nothing but the useful, the admiration 
which virtue excites would always be on account of its utili- 
ty. But such is not the fact. Human nature is wrong per- 
haps in being so formed ; but its admiration is not always the 
expression of its interest. The most useful virtuous act can 
never be so much so as many natural phenomena, which eve- 
ry where diffuse and maintain life. There is not an act of 
virtue, how salutary soever it be, which can be compared in 
this respect with the beneficent influence of the sun. And 
who ever admires the sun ? Who ever experiences for it the 
sentiment of moral admiration and respect Avhich the most 
unproductive act of virtue inspires ? It is because the sun is 
nothing but useful ; while the virtuous act, Avhether useful or 
not, is the fulfilment of a law to which the agent, whom we 
denominate virtuous and whom we admire, is voluntarily con- 
formed. We may derive advantage from an action without 
admiring it, as we may admire it without deriving advantage. 
The foundation of admiiation, then, is not the utility which 
the admired object procures to others ; still less is it the utility 
of the action to him who performs it. The virtuous action 
would otherwise be nothing but a lucky calculation ; we might 
congratulate the author, but not the least in the world should 
we be tempted to admire him. Mankind demands of its he- 
roes some other merit than that of a sagacious merchant ; 
and far from the utility of the agent and his personal interest 
being the ground or the measure of admiration, it is a fact that 
other things being equal, the phenomenon of admiration di- 
minishes or increases in proportion to the sacrifices which the 
virtuous action cost. But if you wish for manifest proof that 
virtue is not founded upon the personal interest of him who 
practices it, take the example I have given on another occa- 
sion,* of a generous man whose virtue proves his ruin instead 

* See Appendix, Note T. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 115 

of being an advantage to him. And to prevent all idea of 
calculation, suppose a man who sacrifices his life for the truth, 
who dies upon the scaffold, young and fresh in life, for the 
cause of justice. Here there is no future to be looked at, of 
course no chance of ulterior advantage ; and of course no cal- 
culation, no possible self-interest. 

This man, if virtue is nothing but utility, is a fool, and 
mankind who admire him are dehrious. This dehrium is 
nevertheless a fact, an undeniable fact. It demonstrates, then, 
unanswerably, that in the human mind in its actual state, the 
idea of right and wrong, of virtue and vice, is one thing, and 
the idea of utility, of pleasure and pain, of happiness and mis- 
ery, is another thing. 

I have now shown the essential and metaphysical difference 
of these ideas.* It remains to show their relation. It is cer- 
tain that the idea of virtue in the human mind is distinct 
from that of happiness ; but I ask, if when you meet a virtu- 
ous man, a moral agent who, free to obey or not to obey the 
moral law, obeys it at the sacrifice of his dearest affections,— 
I ask if this man, this moral agent, besides the admiration 
which attaches to th6 act, does not inspire you with a senti- 
ment of good-will which attaches to his person ? Is it not 
true that you are disposed, if happiness were in your hands, to 
dispense it to this virtuous man ? Is it not true that he appears 
to you tvorthy to be happy, and that in respect to him, happi- 
ness does not appear to you solely as an arbitrary idea, but a 
right ? At the same time, when the guilty man is rendered 
wretched, as the effect of his vices, do we not judge that he 
deserves it ? In a word, do we not judge, in general, that it 
would be unjust for vice to be happy and virtue miserable 1 
This is evidently the common opinion of all men ; and this 
opinion is not only universal, it is also a necessary conception. 
In vain does reason endeavor to conceive vice as worthy of 
happiness ; it cannot succeed in the attempt. It cannot help 
demanding an intimate harmony between happiness and vir- 

* &e% A'^p^ftdii', Note U. 



116 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

tue. And in this conception, we are not sensitive beings who 
aspire after happiness, nor sympathetic beings who desire it for 
our fellow creatures ; but we are rational and moral beings, 
who, as with a superior authority, pass such a judgment in 
respect to others, as well as in respect to ourselves. And when 
facts do not accord with our judgments, we do not, on that 
account, reverse our judgments. We maintain them invinci- 
bly, in spite of facts at variance with them ; and such facts 
we do not hesitate to call disorders. The idea of merit and 
demerit is for the reason inseparable from that of the moral 
law fulfilled or violated.* Hence the idea of reward and 
punishment as universal and necessary as its principle. 

Wherever vktue and vice receive their reward and punish- 
ment, there, in our conceptions, is a state of moral order ; and 
where vice and virtue are without punishment and reward, 
or where they are equally treated, there, on the other hand, is 
a state of disorder. Rewards and punishments are different 
according to the cases, and it is not necessary here to deter- 
mine and classify them with perfect precision. When vicious 
actions do not pass beyond a certain sphere, the sphere of the 
person who commits them, men do not impose upon them any 
other punishment than their contempt or disesteem. We 
punish them by opinion. When they exceed that sphere, and 
affect the rights of others, then they fall under positive laws, 
and those laws penal. These two sorts of punishment, moral 
and material, have through all time and everywhere been in- 
flicted upon vicious agents. Without any doubt it is useful 
to society to inflict contempt upon the violater of moral order ; 
without doubt it is useful to society to punish effectually the in- 
dividual who attacks the foundations of social order. This con- 
sideration of utility is real ; it is weighty ; but I say that it is 
not the first, that it is only accessory, and that the immediate 
basis of all penalty is the idea of the essential merit and demerit 
of actions, the general idea of order, which imperiously de- 
mands that the merit and demerit of actions, which is a law 

See Appendix, Note V. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. tff 

of reason and of order, should be realized in a society that 
pretends to be rational and well ordered. On this ground, 
and on this ground alone, of realizing this law of reason and 
of order, the two powers of society, opinion and government, 
appear faithful to their primary law. Then comes up utility, 
the immediate utility of repressing evil, and the indirect utility 
of preventing it, by example, that is, by fear. But this con- 
sideration has need of a basis superior to itself in order to ren- 
der it legitimate. Suppose in fact that there is nothing good 
or evil in itself, and consequently neither essential merit or de- 
merit, and consequently, again, no absolute right of blaming 
or punishing ; by what right, then, I ask, do you blame or 
disgrace a man, or make him ascend the scaffold, or put him 
in irons for Ufe, for the advantage of others, when the action 
of the man is neither good nor bad in itself, and merits in itself 
neither blame nor punishment l Suppose that it is not abso- 
lutely right, just in itself, to blame this man or to punish him, 
and the legitimacy and propriety of infamy and of glory, and 
of every species of reward and punishment are at an end. 
Still farther, I maintain if punishment has no other ground 
than utihty, then even its utility is destroyed ; for in order that 
a punishment may be useful, it is requisite: 1. that he upon 
whom it is inflicted, endowed as he is with the principle of 
merit and demerit, should regard himself as justly punished, 
and should accept his punishment with a suitable disposition ; 
2. that the spectators, equally endowed with the principle of 
merit and demerit, should regard the culprit as justly punish- 
ed according to the measure of his crime, and should apply to 
themselves by anticipation the same justice in case of crime, 
and should be kept in harmony with the social order by the 
view of its legitimate penalties. Hence arises the utility of 
examples of punishment whether moral or physical. — But 
take away its foundation in justice, and you destroy the utihty 
of punishment ; you excite indignation and abhorrence, in- 
stead of awakening penitence in the victim, or teaching a 
salutary lesson to the public. You array courage, sympathy, 
everything noble and elevated in huiHan nature, on the side 
11* 



118 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

of the victim. You excite all energetic spirits against society 
and its artificial laws. Thus the utility of punishment is 
itself grounded in its justice, instead of its justice being ground- 
ed in its utility. Punishment is the sanction of the law and 
not its foundation. Moral order has its foundation not in pun- 
ishment, but punishment has its foundation in moral order. 
The idea of right and wrong is grounded only on itself, on 
reason which reveals it. It is the condition of the idea of 
merit and demerit, which is the condition of the idea of reward 
and punishment ; and this latter idea is to the two former, but 
especially to the idea of right and wrong, in the relation of 
the consequence to the principle.* 

This relation which embraces all moral order, subsists as 
inviolable as reason itself from which we receive it, even when 
we pass beyond the sphere of this life and of human society, 
to that of religion and of a world where God reigns without 
participation, where destiny gives place to the pure action of 
Providence, where fact and right are the same thing. There 
we cannot conceive of God but as at once the cause and sub- 
stance of good, as the representative in some sort of the moral 
law ; that is to say, we cannot conceive of God without refer- 
ing to him the moral law which by our reason is imposed 
upon us. Now at the same time that we conceive of God as 
imposing upon us a just law, we cannot help conceiving that 
God attaches a punishment to the violation of this law. The 
idea of merit and demerit, transferred as it were into the other 
world, is the basis of the conception of punishments and re- 
wards in the future life. Suppose that God was not conceiv- 
ed by us as the representative of the moral law, it would ap- 
pear to us impossible that he could punish or reward us for 
breaking or obeying the law. It is not in the caprice of a 
being superior to us in power, that we rest the legitimacy of 
the retributions of another life. Take away the justice of 
God, and his power, absolute as it is, would no longer appear 
to us a sufficient foundation for rewards and punishments. 

* See Appendix, Note W. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. U9 

Take away his justice, and what remains ? A government, 
but no law ; and instead of the sublime realization of the idea 
of merit and demerit, the future life is nothing but the threat 
of a superior force against a feeble being, fated to sustain the 
part of a sufferer and a victim. — In heaven, then, as upon the 
earth, in heaven much more than upon the earth, the sanction 
of law is not the foundation of it ; reward and punishment are 
deduced from merit and demerit, from right and wrong ; the 
former do not constitute the latter.* 

Let us now apply to this subject the distinctions we have 
before established. We have distinguished the logical order 
of ideas, from the order of their acquisition. In the first case, 
one idea is the logical condition of another when it explains 
the other ; in the second case, one idea is the chronological 
condition of another, when it arises in the human mind before 
the other. Now I say in respect to the question before us, 
that the idea of justice, the idea of the moral law obeyed or 
broken, is : 1. the logical condition of the idea of merit or de- 
merit, which without it is incomprehensible and inadmissible ; 
2. the antecedent, the chronological condition of the acquisi- 
tion of the idea of merit and demerit, which certainly never 
would have arisen in the mind, if previously it had not received 
the idea of justice and injustice, right and wrong, good and 
evil. Now, Locke, after having frequently confounded, as 
we have seen, the logical condition of an idea with its chro- 
nological condition, confounds at once in regard to this sub- 
ject, both the logical and chronological condition of an idea 
with the idea itself, and even with a consequence of that idea ; 
for the idea of reward and punishment is only a consequence 
of the idea of merit and demerit, which in its turn is only a 
consequence of the idea of right and wrong, which is here the 
supreme principle, beyond which it is impossible to ascend. 
Thus, instead of laying down first the idea of right and 
wrong, then that of merit and demerit, and then that of re- 
ward and punishment ; it is the reward and punishment, that 

* See Appendix, Note X. 



120 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

is to gay, the pleasure and the pain that result from right and 
wrong, which, according to Locke, is the foundation of moral 
good and evil, and of the moral rectitude of actions. 

B. IL ch. XXVIIL § 5 : " Good and evil, as hath been 
shown, B. IL ch. XX. § 2, and ch. XXL § 42, are nothing 
but pleasure or pain, or that which occasions, or procures 
pleasure or pain to us. Moral good and evil, then, is only the 
conformity or disagreement of our voluntary actions to some 
law, whereby good or evil is drawn on us by the will and 
/ power of the law-maker ; which good and evil, pleasure or 
pain, attending our observance or breach of the law, by the 
decree of the law -maker, is what we call reward and punish- 
ment." 

Locke then distinguishes three laws or rules, namely, the 
divine law, the civil law, and the law of opinion, or reputa- 
tion. 

Ibid. § 7 : "By the relation they bear to the first of these, 
men judge whether their actions are sins or duties ; by the 
second, whether they be criminal or innocent ; and by the 
third, whether they be virtues or vices." 

Ibid. § 8 : '•'• Divine law the measure of sin and duty. 
First, the divine law, whereby I me^n that law which God 
has set -to the actions of men, whether promulgated to them 
by the light of nature or the voice of revelation. That God 
has given a rule whereby men should govern themselves, I 
think there is nobody so brutish as to deny. He has a right 
to do it; we are his creatures : he has goodness and wisdom 
to direct our actions to that which is best ; and he has power 
to enforce it by rewards and punishments, of infinite weight 
and duration in another life ; for nobody can take us out of 
his hands. This is the only true touchstone of moral recti- 
tude, and by comparing them to this law, it is that men judge 
of the most considerable moral good or evil of their actions ; 
that is, whether as sins or duties, they are like to procure them 
happiness or misery, from the hands of the Almighty." 

Here, then, the punishments and rewards of a future fife 
are declared the sole-touehstone, the sole measure of the recti- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 121 

tude of our actions. But suppose that the law which God has 
givea us were not just in itself, independently of the rewards 
and punishments attached to it, the act which obeys or violates 
it would then be neither good nor bad in itself; and the divine 
will would then be seen in the strange aspect of attaching to 
a law indifferent in itself, and in its fulfilment or violation, 
rewards the most alluring, and punishments the most dread- 
ful. These promises and these threatenings, moreover, being 
addressed merely to the sensibility, which is the subject of 
pleasure and pain, and not to the reason or conscience, might 
excite in us fear or hope, but never the emotion of reverence, 
nor the sentiment of duty. And it is of no avail to say, as 
Locke has, that God has the light to do so, to establish namely 
such a law, though it is in itself indifferent, because we are 
his creatures; for that is without meaning, unless it be that he 
is the most powerful and we the weakest, and that would be 
to appeal to the right of the strongest.* In general this theory 
tends to make God an arbitray king, to substitute the Divine 
Will and Power in place of Divine Reason and Wisdom. 
It is a doctrine concerning God for the senses, and not 
for the reason, made for slaves and brutes, not for intelligent 
and free beings. 

Ihid. § 9 : " Civil lata the measure of crimes and inno- 
cence. Secondly^ the civil law, the rule set by the common- 
wealth to the actions of those who belong to it, is another rule 
to which men refer their actions, to judge whether they be 
criminal or no. This law nobody overlooks ; the rewards 
and punishments which enforce it being ready at hand, and 
suitable to the power that makes it ; which is the force of the 
commonwealth, engaged to protect the hves, liberties, and pos- 
sessions of those who Uve accoriling to its laws, and has power 
to take away life, liberty, or goods, from him who disobeys, 
which is the punishment of offences committed against this 
law." 

Unquestionably society has this right ; this right is even a 

* See Appendix, Note Y. 



122 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

duty for it ; but it is so only upon one condition, the condition 
namely, that the laws which it passes should be just : for sup- 
pose that the law established by society be unjust, the violation 
of this law ceases to be unjust, and then the punishment of 
an act not unjust which transgresses an unjust law, is itself 
injustice. Take away, I repeat, the previous fitness and just- 
ness of the law, and you destroy the fitness and justice of the 
punishment. Punishment loses all its character of morality, 
and retains only that of mere physical force, which cannot, 
as Hobbes very well perceived, be too absolute or too formida- 
ble ; since it cannot subsist nor make itself regarded, except 
from the fear it inspires. 

Ibid. § 10. " Philosophical law the measure of virtue 
and vice. Thirdly, the law of opinion or reputation. Virtue 
and vice are names pretended and supposed every where to 
stand for actions in their own nature right and wrong ; and 
so far as they really are so applied, they are coincident with 
the divine law above mentioned. But yet whatever is pre- 
tended, this is visible, that these names, virtue and vice, in the 
particular instances of their application, through the several 
nations and societies of men in the world, are constantly attri- 
buted only to such actions, as in each country and society are 
in reputation or discredit. Nor is it to be thought strange that 
men every where should give the name of virtue to those ac- 
tions, which among them are judged praiseworthy ; and call 
that vice J which they account blameable : since otherwise they 
would condemn themselves, if they should think any thing 
right, to which they allowed not commendation, and any thing 
wrong, which they let pass without blame. Thus the measure 
of what is every where called and esteemed virtue and vice^ 
is the approbation or dislike, praise or blame, which by a secret 
and tacit consent establishes itself in the several societies, tribes 
and clubs of men in the world ; whereby several actions come 
to find credit or disgrace amongst them according to the judg- 
ment, maxims, or fashions, of that place. For though men 
uniting to politic societies, have resigned up to the public the 
disposing of all their fwce, so that they cannot employ it 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 128 

against any fellow citizen, any farther than the law of the 
country directs ; yet they retain still the power of thinking 
well or ill, approving or disapproving the actions of those 
whom they live amongst and converse with ; and by this ap- 
probation and dislike, they establish amongst themselves what 
they call virtue and vice." 

Ihid. §11: " That this is the common measure of virtue 
and vice, will appear to any one who considers, that though 
that passes for vice in one country which is counted virtue, 
or at least not vice in another, yet every where virtue and 
praise, vice and blame go together." 

Upon which point Locke refers to all pagan antiquity, in 
which the incitement to virtue was the appeal to glory. He 
even cites a passage of St. Paul, which he forces aside from 
its natural sense, to get at the conclusion, that there is no other 
measure of virtue than good or bad fame. Read also his 
twelfth section, in which the " enforcements" of this law are 
stated to be " commendation and discredit." 

But you will perceive that the same is true in regard to 
opinion, the pretended philosophical law, as in regard to pub- 
lic punishments under the civil law, and in regard to the pun- 
ishments of another Hfe under the divine law. Suppose that 
virtue is not virtue in itself, and that it is praise and approba- 
tion which make it, it is clear that morahty is no longer any 
thing ; there is no longer a law ; there is nothing but arbitrary 
customs, local and changing ; there is no longer any thing but 
fashion and opinion. Now, either opinion is nothing but a 
lying sound, or it is the echo of the public conscience, and then 
it is an effect, and not a cause ; its legitimacy and its power 
reside in the sentiment of right and wrong. But to elevate 
the effect to the rank of a cause, to establish right and wrong 
upon opinion, is to destroy right and wrong ; it is to confound 
and vitiate virtue, by making fear its only sanction ; it is to 
make courtiers and not virtuous men. Popular applause is 
one of the sweetest things in the world, but only when it is 
the reflection of one's own conscience, and not the price of 
epjBplaisance ; when it is acquired by a series of actions truly 



124 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

virtuous, by constancy to one's character, fidelity to one's prin- 
ciples and to one's friends in the common service of one's 
couQtry. Glory is the crown, not the foundation of virtue. 
Duty does not measure itself by reward. Without doubt it 
is easier to perform it on a conspicuous theatre, and with the 
applauses of the crowd ; but it is not at all lessened in the 
shade, it perishes not in ignominy ; there, as every where, it is 
one and the same, inviolable and obligatory. 

The conclusion to which we perpetually recur, is that here 
likewise Locke obviously takes the consequence for the prin- 
ciple, the effect for the cause. And you will observe that this 
confusion is a necessity of his system. This system admits 
no idea that is not derived from reflection or from sensation. 
Reflection being here out of the question, it is to sensation that 
Locke has recourse ; and as sensation cannot explain the idea 
which mankind have of good and evil, the object is to find an 
idea more or less resembling it, which can come from sensa- 
tion, and take the place of the former. Now this idea is that 
of punishment and reward, which resolves itself into that of 
pleasure and pain, happiness and misery, or in general, into 
the idea of utility. This confusion, to repeat once more, was 
necessary to the system of Locke ; and it saves it : but dispel 
the confusion, re-establish the facts in their real value and true 
order, and the system of Locke is overthrown. 

Let us see where we are. Locke has tried his system upon 
a number of particular ideas, to wit : the idea of space, the 
idea of time, the idea of the infinite, of personal identity, of 
substance, of cause, of good and evil ; imposing upon himself 
the task of explaining all these ideas by sensation and by re- 
flection. We have followed Locke upon all these points cho- 
sen by himself ; and upon all these points, an attentive exam- 
ination has demonstrated that not one of these ideas can be 
explained by sensation or reflection, except under the condition 
of entirely misconceiving the real characteristics with which 
these ideas are now marked in the understanding of all man- 
kind, and of confounding, through the help of this miscon- 
ception, these ideas with other ideas which are indeed more 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 125 

or less intimately united with them, but which are not the 
same, which precede them, or which succeed them, but do 
not constitute them, as the ideas of body, of number, of the 
phenomena of consciousness and memory, of collection and 
totality, of reward and punishment, pleasure and pain. 
Now, without doubt sensation and reflection explain these 
latter ideas ; but these are not the ideas which it is the pro- 
blem to explain, and Locke is therefore convicted of being 
unable to explain all the ideas that are in the human mind. 

The theories which we have brought forward and dis- 
cussed, occupy three fourths of the second book of Locke's 
Essay on the Human Understanding. Locke had then 
only to gather his generalizations ; he had nothing more to 
do but to show how, the ideas which we have gone over and 
all similar ideas being furnished by sensation or by reflec- 
tion, the complete edifice of the human understanding may 
be erected on this basis. On our part, the most important 
portion of our task is accomplished. It was necessary to 
accompany the exposition of the grounds of Locke's system 
with a profound and thorough discussion. Now that these 
grounds are overthrown, we can proceed faster ; it will be 
enough to give a rapid view of the last part of the second 
book, stating the principal positions, and elucidating them by 
a few reflections. 

All those ideas which are derived immediately from these 
two sources, sensation and reflection, are by Locke denomi- 
nated simple ideas. Simple ideas are the elements out of 
which we compose all other ideas. Compound or complex 
ideas are those which we form subsequently by the combina- 
tion of simple and primitive ideas; so that the whole devel- 
opement and action of the human mind is resolved into the 
acquisition, immediately from the senses, of a certain number 
of simple ideas, which Locke beheves he has determined ; — 
then the formation from these materials of complex ideas by 
combination and association ; then again, the formation from 
these complex ideas of ideas still more complex than the for- 

12 



126 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

mer ; and thus on continually, till we have exhausted all the 
ideas in the human mind.* 

There is one error which it is necessary here to expose. It 
is not true that we begin by simple ideas, and then proceed to 
complex ideas. On the contrary, we begin with complex 
ideas, and from them proceed to more simple. The process 
of the mind in the acquisition of ideas is precisely the inverse 
of that which Locke assigns. All our first ideas are complex, 
and for the evident reason that all our faculties, or at least a 
great number of our faculties, enter into exercise at the same 
time ; and their simultaneous action gives us at the same 
time a number of ideas bound and blended together, which 
form a whole. For example : the idea of the external world 
which is given so quick and early in the order of acquisition, 
is a very complex idea, containing a multitude of ideas. 
There is the idea of the secondary qualities of external objects, 
the idea of their primary qualities, the idea of the permanent 
reality of something to which you refer these qualities, that is 
of body, of matter ; there is also the idea of space containing 
body, the idea of time in which its different motions and 
changes are accomplished, &c. And do you believe that you 
have at first, and by itself, the idea of the primary qualities, 
and of the secondary qualities ; then the idea of the subject 
of these qualities, then the idea of time, and then the idea of 
space ? By no means. It is simultaneously, or almost simul- 
taneously, that you acquire all these ideas. Moreover you do 
not have them without knowing that you have them ; you 
have the conviction of having them. This conviction impHes 
for you the exercise of consciousness ; and consciousness im- 
plies a certain degree of attention, that is, of will ; it implies 
also a belief in your own existence, in the real or substantial 
/or self J which you are. In a word, you have at once an 
assemblage of ideas which are given you the one with the 
other ; and all your primitive ideas are complex. They are 
complex besides for another reason ; because they are particu- 

* Book IL chap. II. and chap. XII. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 127 

lar and concrete, as I have shown in the preceding lecture. 
Then comes abstraction, which, employing itself upon those 
primitive data, complex, concrete, and particular, separates 
what nature had given you united and simultaneous, and 
considers by itself each of these parts of the whole. That 
part which is separated fiom the whole, that idea detached 
from the body of the total picture of the primitive ideas, be- 
comes an abstract and simple idea, until an abstraction, more 
sagacious and more profound, subjects that supposed simple 
idea to the same process to which the collection of preceding 
ideas had been subjected, namely, decomposes it, evolves from- 
it many other ideas which it considers apart, abstracting one 
from the other ; — until in short, from decomposition to decom- 
position, abstraction and analysis, arrive at ideas so simple that 
they are supposed no longer capable of being decomposed. 
The more simple an idea is, the more general it is ; the more 
abstract, the greater the extension it has. We begin with the 
concrete, and we go to the abstract ; we begin with the defi- 
nite and particular, in order to arrive at the simple and the 
general. The process of the mind, then, as I have said, is 
altogether the reverse of that assigned by Locke. I should, 
however, render this justice to the school of Locke, that it has 
not permitted so important an eiTor to remain in the analysis 
of the mind, and that Condillac subsequently restored the true 
process. 

This has not been done, however, in regard to another opin- 
ion of Locke, blended with the former, namely, that the mind 
is passive in the ac'quisition of simple ideas, and active in 
that of complex ideas.* Without doubt the mind is more ac- 
tive, its activity is more awake, in forming general ideas by 
abstraction (for this is what we must understand by the com- 
plex ideas of Locke ;) but it is also active in the acquisition 
of particular ideas (the simple ideas of Locke,) for in this there 
is still consciousness, and consciousness supposes attention, 
will, activity. The mind is always active when it thinks. 

*B. II.ch. L §25; ch. XII. § 2. 



128 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

It does not always think, as Locke has well remarked* ; 
but whenever it does think, and it certainly thinks in the ac- 
quisition of particular ideas, it is active. Locke has too much 
diminished the activity of the mind ; and the school of Locke, 
far from extending it, has limited it still more. 

All our ideas are now obtained, or supposed to be obtained ; 
their mechanism has been described and explained. It re- 
mains only to investigate their most general characters. 
Locke has divided them into clear and distinct ideas, and ideas 
obscure and confused, t real and chimerical, J complete and in- 
complete, § true and false. II — In the last chapter, we find the 
remark since then so often reiterated, that in strictness all our 
ideas are true, and that error does not respect the idea consid- 
ered in itself ; for even when you have an idea of a thing 
which does not exist, as the idea of a centaur, of a chimera, it 
is not the less true that you have the idea which you have ; it 
is only that the idea which you certainly have, which unques- 
tionably is in the human mind, lacks a corresponding object, 
really existing in nature ; but the idea in itself is not the less 
true. The error, then, respects not the idea, but the affirma- 
tion sometimes added to it, namely, that this idea has an object 
really existing in nature. You are not in an error, because 
you have the idea of a centaur ; but you are in an error when 
to this idea of a centaur you join the affirmation, that the ob- 
ject of such an idea exists. It is not the idea taken by itself, 
it is the judgment connected with it, which contains the error. 
The school of Locke has developed and put in clear light this 
judicious observation. 

The second book closes with an excellent chapter on the 
association of ideas.lF Not only are ideas clear or obscure, 
distinct or confused, real or chimerical, complete or incom- 
plete, true or false ; they have besides this undeniable peculiari- 
ty, that by occasion of one we conceive another, that they 
recal and bring up each other. There are associations natu- 

* B. II. ch. I. § 18, 19. t B. II. ch. XXIX. t Ibid. ch. XXX. 
§ Ibid. ch. XXXI. II Ibid. ch. XXXII. IT Ibid. ch. XXIII. 



k 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 129 

ral, necessary, and rational ; there are also false, arbitrary, and 
vicious associations of ideas. Locke has clearly discerned and 
forcibly signalized the danger of the latter sort. He has 
shown by a multitude of examples how it frequently happens, 
that simply because we have seen two things by chance uni- 
ted, this purely accidental association subsists in the imagina- 
tion and perverts the understanding. This is the source of a 
multitude of errors ; not only of false ideas, but of false senti- 
ments, of arbitrary antipathies and sympathies, which not un- 
frequently degenerate into insanity. We find here in Locke 
the wisest counsels for the education of the soul and of the 
mind, on the art of breaking up in good season the false con- 
nections of ideas, and of restoring to their place those rational 
connections which are derived from the nature of ideas and of 
the human mind. I regret but one thing, it is that Locke did 
not push this analysis still farther, that he left still so much 
vagueness upon this important subject. It should not have 
been enough for him to lay it down that there are associa- 
tions true, natural, and rational, and associations false, acci- 
dental, and irrational ; he should have shown in what con- 
sisted the true connections, determined the most important and 
the most ordinary of these legitimate connections, and at- 
tempted to ascend to the laws which govern them. A precise 
theory of these laws would have been an immense service 
done to philosophy ; for the laws of association of ideas rest 
upon the laws of the understanding itself. In fine, when 
Locke passed to perverted associations, he should have shown 
what is the root of these associations, and what is the relation 
of false connections to the true. We see the human mind 
only in its extravagance, until we ascend to the source, 
the reason of that extravagance. Thus, for example, Locke 
incessantly recommends, and very justly, to break up in the 
minds of children, the ordinary association of spectres with 
darkness. A more thorough analysis would have investiga- 
ted the ground of this association of mysterious beings with 
night, darkness, obscurity. The idea of phantoms or spec- 
tres is never connected in the mind or in the imagination, 
13* 



130 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

with the idea of the sun or a brilliant light. Here is certainly 
an extravagance of the mind, but it is an extravagance which 
has its ground, and it would be curious and useful to investi- 
gate it. Here is a false connection of ideas which analysis 
can completely explain only by referring it to another connec- 
tion of ideasj natural and legitimate, but perverted in a partic- 
ular case. — As to the rest, I repeat, this whole chapter shows 
the ingenious observer, and the true philosopher ; and we 
shall see hereafter that the association of ideas became, in the 
hands of Locke's school, a rich subject of experiment and of 
instructive results, a fruitful topic of favorite study, and in re- 
spect to which the followers of Locke have rendered unques- 
tionable service to the human reason. 

Such is the exact and faithfid analysis of the second book. 
Locke has made all our ideas to be derived from sensation or 
from reflection ; he has exhibited their genesis, the play of 
their developement, the different general attributes by which 
they may be classed, and that most remarkable quality, which 
is at once the most useful or the most dangerous. — Ideology, 
psychology, at least that of Locke, is achieved. 

It would now remain.to pass to the applications of ideology, 
to the knowledge of objects and beings by the aid of ideas. 
This is the subject ojf the fourth book. But Locke, having 
clearly perceived what is the relation of words to ideas, and 
that words are a fruitful source of errors for the understand- 
ing, has previously devoted an entire book, his third, to the 
discussion of the great question concerning signs and lan- 
guage. 

You know that this is again one of the points in which the 
school of Locke has been the most faithful to their master. 
It is the favorite subject with his school, and I cordially ac- 
knowledge that in regard to this question, together with that 
concerning the association of ideas, it has deserved best of 
philosophy. I acknowledge with great respect a multitude of 
sound, ingenious, and even original ideas, scattered through 
the whole of Locke's third book. Locke has admirably per- 
ceived the necessary intervention of signs, of words, in the 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. Igl 

formation of abstract and general ideas ; the influence of signs 
and words in definitions, and consequently in a considerable 
part of logic. He has noticed and signalized the advantages 
of a good system of signs, the utility of a well constructed 
language, the danger of an ill one ; the verbal disputes to 
which a defective language too frequently reduces philosophy. 
Upon all these points he has opened the route which his school 
have entered and pursued. If he has not gone very far, he 
still has the credit of opening the way ; if he has suffered 
many profound observations to escape him which have been 
made by his successors, he has in requital avoided very many 
systematic errors into which they have fallen. Faithful still, 
however, to his method of inquiring more after the origin of 
things than their actual characters, Locke has not failed to in- 
vestigate, though briefly, the origin of words, of signs, of lan- 
guage. He has recognized that the materials of language 
pre-exist in nature, in sounds, and in that of our organs, which 
is fitted to form them ; but he perfectly comprehended that if 
there were nothing else but sounds, even articulate sgunds, 
there would indeed be the materials of signs, but there would 
yet be no signs. There are signs only on one condition, 
namely, that the understanding attaches a sense, a particular 
signification to the sound, in order that the sound should be- 
come a sign, the sign of an internal conception of the mind. 
" Parrots, and several other birds," says Locke, B. HL ch. I. 
§ 1 and 2, " will be taught to make articulate sounds distinct 
enough, which yet by no means are capable of language. 
Besides articulate sounds, therefore, it was farther necessary 
that man should be able to use these sounds as signs of in- 
ternal conceptions ; and to make them stand as marks for 
the ideas within his own mind." From whence it follows, 1. 
that language is not the product of sounds, that is to say, of 
the organs and the senses, but of the intelligence ; 2. that the 
intelligence is not the product of language, but on the con- 
trary, language is the product of intelligence ; 3. that the 
greater part of words having, as Locke well remarked, an ar- 
bitrary signification, not only are languages the product of the 



132 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

intelligence, but they are even in great part the product of the 
wiU ; Avhile in the system which has prevailed, both in the 
school of Locke and in a school altogether opposed to his, in- 
teUigence is made to come from language, in the latter, with- 
out much inquiring whence language comes, in the former, by 
making it come from the sensation and the sound, without 
suspecting that there is a gulf between the sound considered 
as a sound, and the sound considered as a sign, and that what 
makes it a sign is the power to comprehend it, that is, the 
mind, the intelligence. Sounds, and the organs which per- 
ceive and produce them, are the conditions of language ; but 
its principle is intelligence. Here at least, we can give Locke 
the credit of not confounding the condition of a principle with 
the principle itself. His successors have not been as wise.* 

I will now proceed to take up several important points of 
the third book, which appear to me doubtful or false. You 
will judge. 

L Locke maintains (B. HL ch. L § 5,) that " words ulti- 
mately derive their origin from such [other words] as signify 
sensible things," that is to say, in the last analysis all words 
have for their roots elementary words, which are the signs of 
sensible ideas. In the first place, the absolute truth of this 
proposition may be denied. I will give you two words, and 
will ask you to reduce them to their primitive words expressive 
of sensible ideas. Take the word /or myself. This word, 
at least in all languages with which I am acquainted, is not 
susceptible of any reduction. It is undecomposable and prim- 
itive. It expresses no sensible idea ; it represents nothing but 
the meaning which the intelligence attaches to it ; it is a pure 
sign, without relation to any sensible sign. The word being 
is in precisely the same case ; it is primitive and altogether 
intellectual. I know no language where the word to he is 
expressed by a corresponding word representing a sensible 
idea. It is not then true, that all the roots of language are 
in the last analysis signs of sensible ideas. Farther, — even 

* See Appendix, Note Z. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 133 

if it were true, and absolutely so, which is not the fact, let us 
see the only conclusion which could be justly drawn from it. 
Man is led at first by the action of all his faculties out of him- 
self and towards the external world. The phenomena of the 
external world first strike his notice; these phenomena of 
course receive the first names ; the first signs are drawn from 
sensible objects ; and they are tinged in some sort with their 
colours. Then when man, subsequently, in falling back upon 
himself, apprehends more or less distinctly those intellectual 
phenomena, of which from the first he indeed had glimpses, 
but mixed and confused; and when he wishes to express 
these new phenomena of the mind and of thought, analogy 
leads him to connect the signs he is seeking for, with those 
he already possesses, for analogy is the law of all language 
forming or developed. Hence the metaphors into which 
analysis resolves the greater part of the signs of the most ab- 
stract moral ideas. But it does not follow at all, that the mind 
of man has hereby intended to mark the genesis of its ideas. 
Because the signs of certain ideas are analogous to the signs 
of certain other ideas, the conclusion does indeed follow that 
the former were formed after the others, and upon the others ; 
but not in the least does it follow that the ideas of all these 
signs are in themselves identical or analogous. It is, how- 
ever, by these analogies, purely verbal, and which, I repeat 
it, do not explain all the phenomena of language, that the 
school of Locke, taking advantage of the relations of words 
to each other, and of the sensible characteristics of the chief 
part of their roots, has pretended, that all signs in the last 
analysis are derived from sensible signs, and what is more, 
that all ideas are equally derived from sensible ideas. Here 
is the foundation of the great work of Home Tooke, who, in 
respect to grammar, has developed with a hardy fidelity the 
system already clearly indicated in the Essay on the Human 
Understanding, (B. HI. ch. L § 5,) a system more or less in 
accordance with the necessary intervention of intelligence in 
the formation of language which Locke had himself set forth, 
and with the power of reflection as distinct from sensation in 



134 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

the acquisition of knowledge. " It may also lead us a little 
towards the original of all our notions and knowledge, if we 
remark how great a dependance our words have on common 
sensible ideas ; and how those, which are made use of to stand 
for actions and notions quite removed from sense, have their 
rise from thence, and from obvious sensible ideas are transfer- 
red to more abstruse significations, and made to stand for things 
that come not under the congnizance of our senses ; e. g. to 
imagine, apprehend, comprehend, adhere, conceive, instil, dis- 
gust, disturbance, tranquilUty, (fee. are all words taken from 
the operations of sensible things, and appHed to certain modes 
of thinking. Spirit, in its primary signification, is breath ; 
angel, a messenger : and I doubt not, but if we could trace 
them to their sources, we should find, in all languages, the 
names which stand for things that fall not under the senses, 
to have had their first rise from sensible ideas. By which 
we may give some kind of guess, what kind of notions they 
were, and whence derived, which filled their minds who 
were the first beginners of languages ; and how nature, even 
in the naming, of things, unawares suggested to men the ori- 
ginals and principles of all their knowledge " 

II. Another proposition of Locke: (B. III. ch. III. § 8,) "that 
the signification of words is perfectly arbitrary." — I have al- 
ready acknowledged that the greater part of words are arbi- 
trary, and come not only from the intelligence, but from the 
will. I am thoroughly persuaded that the greater part of 
words are conventional ; but the question is, whether they are 
all so. The point to be investigated is, if there be absolutely 
not one root in language which carries of itself its own signifi- 
cation, which has a natural meaning, which is the foundation 
of subsequent convention, instead of coming from that conven- 
tion. This is a great question which Locke has cut off with 
a single word, and which all his school have regarded as defi- 
nitively settled; not even agitating it. And certainly even if 
I should grant, what I cannot grant without qualification, that 
all words are arbitrary, I should except the laws of the relation 
of words to each other. Language is not a simple collection of 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 135 

isolated words ; it is a system of manifold relations of words to 
each other. These various relations are all referable to invaria- 
ble relations, which constitute the foundation of every language, 
its grammar, the common and identical part of all languages, 
that is to say, universal grammar, which has its necessary laws 
derived from the very nature of the human mind. Now it 
is remarkable, that in the book on words, Locke has never 
touched upon the relations of words, never upon syntax, nor 
the true foundation of language. There are a multitude of 
special reflections and ingenious too, but no theory, no true 
grammar. It is by the school of Locke, that the isolated 
remarks of their master have been formed into a gram- 
matical system true or false, which we shall not take up at 
present. 

in. We come now to another proposition of great impor- 
tance. Locke declares expressly, that what is called general 
and universal, is the work of the understanding, and that the 
real essence is nothing else than the nominal essence. B. IIL '^ 
ch. in. § 11 : '-'■ general and universal belong not to the real 
existence of things ; but are the inventions and creatures of 
the understandings made by it for its own use, and concein 
only signs, whether words or ideas." You see here the very 
foundation of nominalism. It is important to examine, though 
briefly, this proposition, which has become in the school of 
Locke an unquestionable principle, a prejudice placed above 
all discussion. 

I perceive a book, and another book, and another book 
still ; I neglect, by abstraction, their differences of position, of 
form, of size, of color ; I attend solely to their relations of re- 
semblance which it is needless to enumerate, and I arrive by 
well known processes, to the general idea of book ; and that 
general idea is expressed for me by the word, book. Now what 
is there under this word ? Neither more nor less than this : 
1. the supposition that, besides the diffeiences which distin- 
guish the objects placed before my eyes, there are also in them 
resemblances, common qualities, without which no generali- 
zation would be possible ; 2. the supposition that there is a 



136 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

mind capable of recognizing these common qualities ; and 3, 
the supposition that there are objects really existing, real books, 
subjects of the common qualities. The word book represents 
all this : different books existing in nature, quahties common 
to those different books, and a mind capable of uniting those 
common quahties and of raising them to their general idea. 
But independently of these different and real books, of their 
common qualities, and of the mind which conceives them, does 
the word book express, does it represent, any thing existing, 
which is neither such or such a book, but book in itself? 
No, certainly not. The word book is, then, nothing but a 
word, a pure word, which has no special type, no real object 
existing in nature ; it is certain, then, that the general essence 
of book confounds itself with its nominal essence, that the es- 
sence of book is nothing but a word, and here I am altogether 
on the side of Locke and of nominalism. 

But are there not other general ideas ? Let us examine. 
I perceive a body, and at the same instant my mind cannot 
but take for granted that the body is in a certain particular 
space, which is the place of this particular body. I perceive 
another body, and my mind cannot but believe that this other 
particular body is also in a particular space ; and thus I arrive, 
and I arrive very soon, as you have before seen, without need 
of passing through a long series of experiments, at the general 
idea of space. It remains to ascertain if this general idea of 
space is exactly the same as the general idea of book, that is, 
if the word space in itself signifies nothing more than the word 
book. Let us consult the human mind and the truth of in- 
ternal facts. It is an unquestionable fact, that when you 
speak of book in general, you do not connect with the idea of 
book that of a real existence. On the contrary, I ask if, when 
you speak of space in general, you do not add to this idea a 
behef in the reality of space ? I ask if it is with space as with 
book ; if you believe, for instance, that there are, without you, 
nothing but particular spaces, that there is not an universal 
space, capable of embracing all possible bodies, a space one and 
the same with itself, of which different particular spaces are 



I 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 137 

nothing but arbitrary portions and measures ? It is certain, 
that when you speak of space, you have the conviction that 
out of yourself there is something which is space ; as also when 
you speak of time, you have the conviction, that there is out 
of yourself something which is time, although you know nei- 
ther the nature of time nor of space. Different times and 
different spaces, are not the constituent elements of space and 
time ; time and space are not solely for you the collection of 
different times and different spaces. But you believe that 
time and space are in themselves, that it is not two or three 
spaces, two or three ages, which constitute space and time ; 
for, every thing derived from experience, whether in respect 
to space or to time, is finite, and the characteristic of space 
and of time for you is to be infinite, without beginning and 
without end ; time resolves itself into eternity, and space into 
immensity. In a word, an invincible belief in the reality of 
time and of space, is attached by you to the general idea of 
time and space. This is what the human mind believes ; 
this is what consciousness testifies. Here the phenomenon is 
precisely the reverse of that which I just before signalized ; 
and while the general idea of a book does not suppose in the 
mind the conviction of the existence of any thing which is 
book in itself, here on the contrary, to the general idea of time 
and of space, is united the invincible conviction of the reality 
of something which is space and time. Without doubt, the 
word space is a pure word, as well as that of book ; but the 
former word carries with it the supposition of something real 
in itself. Here is the root and ground of realism. 

Nominalism thinks that general ideas are nothing but 
words ; realism, that general ideas suppose something real. 
On both sides there is equal truth, and equal error. Without 
doubt, there are a great number of general ideas, which are 
purely collective, which represent nothing else than the com- 
mon qualities of objects, without implying any existence [any 
general existence, any essence separate fi*om those common 
quahties, and the particular objects in which they reside] ; and 
in this sense nominalism is in the right. But it is certain, 
13 



138 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

also, that there are g-eneral ideas, which imply the supposition 
of the real existence of their object: realism rests upon this 
basis, which is unquestionable. — Now, observe the error of 
nominalism and of realism. The force of realism lies in gen- 
eral ideas, which invincibly imply the external existence of 
their objects ; these are, £is you know, universal and necessary 
general ideas. It starts from thence ; but into the circle of 
these superior ideas, it attracts and envelopes ideas which are 
purely collective and relative, born of abstraction and language. 
What it had the right to affirm of the former, it affirms also 
of the latter. It was right on one point; it would extend it 
to an absolute and exclusive right : that is its error. Nominal- 
ism, on its part, because it had demonstrated clearly that there 
are many general ideas which are only collective ideas, rela- 
tive and of mere words, concluded from this that all general 
ideas are nothing but general ideas, collective and relative, 
mere signs. The one converted things into words, the other 
converted words into things. Both are right in their starting- 
point, both go astray in their conclusion, through their exces- 
sive and absolute pretensions. In general, the Sensual school 
is nominahst, and the Ideal school is realist; and on both sides, 
as is always the case with the incomplete and exclusive, half 
right, and half wrong. 

IV. I conclude with pointing out a proposition of Locke, or 
rather a tendency of the third book, which it is important to 
reduce within just limits. Every where Locke attributes to 
words the greatest part of our errors ; and if you expound the 
master by his disciples, you will find in all the writers of the 
school of Locke, that all disputes are disputes about words ; 
that science is nothing but a language, (which is indeed true, 
if general ideas are nothing but words,) and of course, a lan- 
guage well formed, is a science well constructed. I wish to 
point out the exaggeration of these assertions. No doubt 
words have a great influence ; no doubt they have a very 
large share in our errors, and we should endeavor to make 
language as perfect as possible. Who questions it ? But the 
question is, whether all error is derived from language, and 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. . 139 

whether science is merely a well-formed language ? And I 
answer, no. The causes of error are very different ; they are 
both more extended and more profound. Levity, presump- 
tion, indolence, precipitation, pride, thousands of moral causes, 
influence our judgments, independently of their external signs. 
Apart from all these moral causes, the human understanding 
is only a limited power ; it is capable of truth, it is also capable 
of error. The vices of language may connect themselves with 
these moral causes and aggravate them, but do not constitute 
them. If you look more closely, you will see that the greater 
part of disputes, which seem at first to be disputes about words, 
are, at the bottom, disputes about things. Humanity is too seri- 
ous to be excited, and often to shed its best blood for verbal quar- 
rels. Wars do not turn on disputes about words; and I say^/^ 
the same of other conflicts, theological and scientific contro- ' >,. 
versies, whose depth and importance is altogether misconceived, 
when they are resolved into pure logomachies. Certainly 
every science should seek for a well constructed language ; 
but it were to take the effect for the cause, to suppose that 
there are well established sciences, because there are well 
formed languages. The contrary is true. Sciences have 
well formed languages, when they themselves are well formed. 
Mathematics, physics, chemistry, are sciences well established, 
and they have very well constructed languages. It is because 
in mathematics the ideas have been perfectly determined, that 
the simplicity, strictness and precision of the ideas have pro- 
duced, and necessarily do produce, strictness, precision and 
simplicity of signs. Otherwise it would be implied that pre- 
cise ideas express themselves in confused language ; and even 
if it were so for a while, in the infancy of a language, yet 
soon, the precision, strictness, and fixedness of the ideas would 
reform the vagueness and obscurity of language. The excel- 
lence of the chemical and physical sciences comes obviously 
from well made experiments. Facts having been observed 
wath precision, and described with fidehty, reasoning could 
apply itself to these facts with certainty, and deduce fi^om them 
legitimate consequences and applications. From hence arose, 



140 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

and from hence should arise, a good system of signs. Make 
the contrary supposition ; suppose the experiments badly made, 
then the more strict the reasoning, founded upon these false 
data, should be, the more errors it would deduce, and the more 
length and breadth it would give to the errors. Suppose that 
the theories resulting from these imperfect and vicious experi- 
ments should be represented by signs the most simple, the 
most analogous, the best determined; of what importance 
would the goodness of the signs be, while under this excellent 
language was concealed a chimera or an error? Take the 
science of medicine. It is a complaint that this science has 
made so httle advancement. What do you think should be 
done to bring it up from the regions of hj^thesis, and elevate 
it to the rank of a science 7 Do you beheve that at the outset 
you could, by a language well constructed, reform physiology 
and medicine ? Or do you not believe that the true remedy 
is experiment, and along with experiment the strict employ- 
ment of reason ? A good system of signs will then come of 
itself; it could not come before, or it would come to no pur- 
•^e. It is the same with respect to philosophy. It has been 
incessantly rnpeated, that the structure of the human mind is 
entire in that of language, and that philosophy would be com- 
pleted the day that a philosophical language should be achiev- 
ed. And starting from this point, some have endeavoured to 
arrange a certain philosophical language more or less clear, 
easy and elegant ; and they have beheved that philsophy was 
completed. But it did not answer ; it was very far from an- 
swering the purpose. This prejudice has even retarded its 
progress, by taking off the mind from experiment. Philo- 
sophical science, like every science of observation and of rea- 
soning, lives by observations accurately made and deductions 
rigorously strict. It is there, and not elsewhere, we are to look 
for all the future progress of philosophy. 



CRITICAL EXAMINATION 

or 
LOCKE'S ESSAY 

ON 

THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 



CHAPTER SIXTH. 



13* 



CONTENTS OF CHAPTER SIXTH. 

Examination of the fourth Book of the Essay on the Human Un- 
derstanding, on Knowledge.— That knowledge, according to Locke, 
depends: 1. upon Ideas; 2. upon Ideas, in so far as they are conformed 
to their objects. — That the conformity or non-conformity of ideas with 
their objects, as the foundation of truth or falsehood in regard to know- 
ledge, is not with Locke merely a metaphor, but a real theory, — Exam- 
ination of this theory of ideas, i. in relation to the external world, to 
secondary qualities, to primary qualities, to the substratum of these 
qualities, to space, to time, &c.; 2. in relation to the spiritual world. — 
Appeal to Revelation. Paralogism of Locke. 



CHAPTER YI. 

Having found all the ideas which are in the human under- 
standing, their origin, their genesis, their mechanism and char- 
acters ; the signs also by which we express, exhibit and unfold 
them ; — the next thing is to inquire what man does with these 
ideas, what knowledge he derives from them, what is the ex- 
tent of this knowledge, and what its limits. This is the sub- 
ject of the fourth book of the Essay on the Human Under- 
standing. It treats of Knowledge, that is, not merely of ideas 
taken in themselves, but in relation to their objects, in relation 
to essences. For knowledge in its humblest degree, as well 
as in its highest flight, reaches to that ; it evidently attains to 
God, to bodies, and to ourselves. Now here at the outset a 
previous question comes up. Knowledge extends to beings ; 
the fact is unquestionable: but how does this take place? 
Departing from ideas which are within it, how does the under- 
standing arrive at beings which are without it ? What bridge 
is there, between the faculty of knowing, which is within us, 
and the objects of knowledge which are without us ? When 
we shall have arrived on the other side, we will take counsel 
what course we ought to follow, and where we can go ; but 
first it is necessary to know how to make the passage. Before 
entering upon ontology, we must know how to pass from 
psychology to ontology, what is the foundation, and the legiti- 
mate foundation of knowledge. It is this preliminary ques- 
tion which we shall first impose upon Locke. 

The fourth book of the Essay on the Human Understand- 
ing begins by recognizing that all knowledge depends upon 
ideas : 

B. IV. Of Knowledge ; ch. I. Of Knowledge in gener- 
al. § I : " Since the mind, in all its thoughts and reasonings 
hath no other immediate object but its own ideas, which it 



144 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

alone does or can contemplate, it is evident that our knowledge 
is only conversant about them." 

Now you have seen that Locke recognizes, and rightly, that 
ideas in themselves considered are always true. It is always 
true that we have the idea which we have, which is actual- 
ly under the eye of consciousness. Be this idea a chimera, 
a fairy, a centaur, yet, as an idea, it is always what we have 
it, and in this respect the idea cannot be false, it cannot but 
be true ; or rather, in strictness, it is neither false nor true. 
Where, then, can error begin, and where does truth reside ? 
Both the one and the other evidently reside, and can reside, 
only in the supposition of the mind that the idea does, or does 
not refer to an object, to such or such an object really existing 
in nature. It is in this reference or relation that truth or er- 
ror lies for the human mind. If this relation can be found 
out and fastened upon, human knowledge is possible ; if this 
relation cannot be apprehended, human knowledge is impos- 
sible. Now supposing that this relation is possible, what is 
it, and in what does it consist ? On this point it is our task 
to interrogate Locke with precision and severity ; for here 
should be the foundation of the theory of the true or false in 
regard to human knowledge, that is, the foundation of the 
fourth Book which we have to examine. 

Throughout the whole of the fourth book, as at the close 
of the second, Locke expressly declares that the true or false in 
ideas, about which all knowledge is conversant, consists in the 
supposition of a relation between these ideas and their object ; 
and every where also he expressly declares that this relation is 
andean be nothing but a relation of agreement or disagreement- 
The idea is conformed to its object, or it is not conformed. If 
conformed, knowledge is not only possible but it is true, for it 
rests upon a true idea, an idea conformed to its object j 
if the idea is not coriformed to its object, the idea is 
false, and the knowledge derived from it is equally false. 
This in substance is what we find from one end to the other 
of the fourth book of the Essay on the Human Understand- 
ing, concerning knowledge. The same also we find at eve- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 145 

ry step in the last six chapters of the second book, where 
Locke treats of true and false ideas. 

B. ILch. XXXIL §4: "Whenever the mind refers 
any of its ideas to any thing extraneous to them, they are then 
capable to be called true or false. Because the mind in such 
a reference makes a tacit supposition of their conformity to 
that thing." 

B. IV. ch. IV. § 3: "It is evident, the mind knows not 
things immediately, but only by the intervention of the ideas it 
has of them. Our knowledge therefore is real^ only so far as 
there is a conformity between our ideas and the reality of 
things." 

These two passages are positive ; they clearly reduce the 
question of truth or falsehood in respect to knowledge, to that 
of the conformity or non-conformity of ideas with their 
objects. 

But this necessity of the conformity of an idea with its ob- 
ject in order to its truth, is it in Locke a real theory, or is it 
merely a mode of speaking, simply a metaphor, more or less 
happy ? In the first place, if it is a metaphor, I would ask what 
then is the theory couched under this metaphor, and in what 
place in Locke we are to find that theory once expressly de- 
clared. No where can I find any thing but the metaphor it- 
self. Again, if in the entire absence of any other theory, the 
two passages which I have just cited do not suffice to prove 
that the necessity of the conformity of an idea with its object 
in order to constitute its truth, is not a metaphor, but an ex- 
press theory, I can adduce here a multitude of other passages 
which leave no doubt in this respect. Thus when near the 
end of the second book, Locke treats of ideas as real or chi- 
merical, as complete or incomplete, he rests upon his theory of 
the conformity or non-conformity of ideas with their objects. 

B. 11. ch. XXX. § 1 : " Real ideas are conformable 
to their archetypes. First, by real ideas, I mean such as 
have a foundation in nature ; such as have a conformity with 
the real being and existence of things, or with their archetypes. 
Fantastical or chimerical^ I call such as have no foundation 



146 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

in nature, nor have any conformity to that reality of being to 
which they are tacitly referred as to their archetypes." 

Now what is an adequate or inadequate idea ? An ade- 
quate idea will be that which shall be completely conformed to 
its archetype ; an inadequate idea, that which shall be con- 
formed only in part. 

Ihid. ch. XXXI. § 1 : " Those I call adequate^ which 
perfectly represent those archetypes which the mind supposes 
them taken from, which it intends them to stand for, and to 
which it refers them. Inadequate ideas are such, which are 
but a partial or incomplete representation of those archetypes 
to which they are referred." 

Thus the theory of complete or incomplete ideas rests upon 
the theory of . real and chimerical ideas, which also rests upon 
that of true or false ideas, and that consists altogether in the 
theory of the conformity of the idea to the object. This is a 
point of so much importance, that to take away all uncertain- 
ty, I will adduce a passage where Locke lays down the prob- 
lem by itself, and the precise form in which he lays it down, 
excludes all ambiguity in the solution which he gives. 

B. IV. ch. IV. §3: "But what shaU be here the criteri- 
on? How shall the mind, when it perceives nothing but its 
own ideas, know that they kgree with things themselves ? 
This, though it seems not to want difficulty, yet I think there 
be two sorts of ideas that we may be assured agree with things.'^ 

§ 4. " Simple ideas carry with them all the conformity which 
is intended, or which our state requires ; for they represent 
things to us under those appearances which they are fitted to 
produce in us." And a little further on : " this conformity be- 
tween our simple ideas and the existence of things, is suffi- 
cient for real knowledge." 

It is impossible to explain any thing more distinctly and di- 
rectly. It is not, then, a mere way of speaking, a metaphor 
thrown off in passing ; it is altogether a theory, a system. 
Let us examine it seriously. 

See, then, by it, truth and error, reahty and chimera, r^olved 
into the representation or non-representation of the object by 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 147 

the idea, into the conformity or non-conformity of the idea to 
its object. There is knowledge upon this condition, and upon 
this alone, that the idea represents its object, is conformed to it. 
But upon what condition does an idea represent its object, and be 
conformed to it ? Upon this condition, that the idea resemble its 
object, that the idea have to its object the relation of a copy to its 
original. Weigh the force of the words : the conformity of an 
idea to its object can signify nothing else but the resemblance of 
that idea, taken as a copy, to its object, taken as the original. 
This is exactly what Locke expresses by the word archetypes, 
which he uses to designate the objects of ideas. Now if the 
conformity of the idea to its object is nothing but the resem- 
blance of the copy to its original, to its archetype, I say that 
in such a case, the idea is taken solely as an image. The 
idea must evidently be an image in order positively to resem- 
ble any thing, in order to be able to represent any thing. See 
then the representative idea reduced to an image. Now reflect 
closely, and you will see that every image imphes something 
material. Can an image of any thing immaterial be con- 
ceived .^ Every image is necessarily sensible and material, or 
it is nothing but a metaphor, a supposition which we have put 
away. Thus in the last analysis, to say that there is know- 
ledge where the idea is conformed to its object, and that no 
knowledge is possible but upon this condition, is to pretend that 
there is no knowledge biit upon the condition that the idea of a 
thing is the image of that thing, that is to say, its material im- 
age. All knowledge, then, is involved in the following question : 
Have we, in respect to beings, the ideas which represent them, 
which resemble them, which are the images, and the material 
images of them ; or have we not such images ? If we have, 
knowledge is possible ; if not, it is impossible. Now in point 
of fact, human knowledge embraces both the external world, 
and the soul, and God. If, then, knowledge of these objects is 
possible and real, it is only upon the condition just laid down, 
namely, that we have of these beings, ideas which represent 
them, which resemble them, which are images of them, and 
once again, material images. Have we, then, or have we not 



148 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

idea-images, material images, of God, of the soul, of the exter- 
nal world ? This is the question. Let us first apply it to the 
external world. It is there, above all, that the theory of Locke 
would appear most admissible. Let us see what is the sound- 
ness and value of it even upon this ground. 

The idea of the external world is the idea of body. Bodies 
are known to us only by their qualities. These quahties are 
primary or secondary. By the secondary qualities of bodies is 
understood, you know, those which might not exist, and yet the 
body itself not cease to exist ; for instance, the quahties of which 
we acquire the idea by the sense of smelling, of hearing, and 
of taste, by all the senses, in short, except unquestionably that 
of touch, and perhaps also that of sight. The primary quah- 
ties of bodies are those which are given to us, as the fundamental 
attributes of bodies, without which bodies could not for us exist. 
The eminently primary quality is sohdity, which implies more 
or less extension, which directly implies form. We have the 
donviction that every body is solid, extended, has form. We 
are moreover convinced that bodies have the property of caus- 
ing in us those particular modifications which are called savor, 
sound, odour, perhaps also the modification called color. 
Locke agrees to all this, it is he who chiefly contributed to ex- 
tend in science the distinction between the primary and secon- 
dary qualities of bodies. It is not our object to go any farther 
in this distinction. Let us now see how Locke explains the 
acquisition of ideas of the primary and of secondary qualities. 

B. II. ch. VIII. § 11 : How primary qualities pro- 
duce their ideas. " The next thing to be considered is, how 
bodies produce ideas in us ; and that is manifestly by impulse, 
the only way which we can conceive bodies to operate in." 

§ 12. "If, then, external objects be not united to our minds, 
when they produce ideas therein, and yet we perceive these ori- 
ginal qualities in such of them as singly fall under our senses, 
it is evident, that some motion must be thence continued by 
our nerves or animal spirits, by some parts of our bodies to the 
brain or the seat of sensation, there to produce in our minds 
the particular ideas we have of them. And since the exten- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 149 

sion, figure, number, and motion of bodies of an observable 
bigness, may be perceived at a distance by the sight, it is evi- 
dent that some singly imperceptible bodies must come from 
them to the eyes, and thereby convey to the brain some mo- 
tion, which produces these ideas which we have of them in 
us." 

§ 13. How secondary qualities produce their ideas. 
" After the same manner that the ideas of these original qual- 
ities are produced in us, we may conceive that the ideas of 
secondary qualities are also produced, namely, by the opera- 
tions of insensible particles on our senses. For it being man- 
ifest, that there are bodies, and good store of bodies, each 
whereof are so small, that we cannot by any of our senses 
discover either their bulk, figure, or motion, as is evident in the 
particles of the air and water, and others extremely smaller 
than those, perhaps as much smaller than the particles of air 
and water, as the particles of air and water are smaller than 
peas or hailstones : let us suppose at present, that the differ- 
ent motions and figures, bulk and number, of such particles, 
affecting the several organs of our senses, produce in us those 
different sensations, which we have from the colors and smells 
of bodies ; e. g. that a violet, by the impulse of such insensi- 
ble particles of matter of peculiar figures and bulks, and in 
different degrees and modifications of their motions, causes 
the ideas of the blue color and sweet scent of that flower to 
be produced in our minds ; it being rio more impossible to con- 
ceive that God should annex such ideas to such motions, with 
which they have no similitude, than that he should annex 
the idea of pain to the motion of a piece of steel dividing our 
flesh, with which that idea hath no resemblance." 

§ 14. " What I have said concerning colors and smells, 
may be understood also of tastes, and sounds, and other the 
like sensible qualities ." 

If you follow up this whole theory to its principle, so imper- 
fectly discerned and unfolded, you will find that it rests in the 
last analysis upon the supposition that, as bodies act upon each 
other only by contact, and consequently by impulsion, so in the 

14 



150 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

same way the mind likewise cannot be brought into connec- 
tion with corporeal things but upon the same condition, that 
there should be contact between the mind and body, and of 
course impulse of the one upon the other. Now in sensible 
ideas, which are involuntary, and in which, according to Locke, 
the mind is passive, the impulse ought to come from the body 
upon the mind, and not from the mind upon the body, and 
the contact cannot take place directly, but indirectly by means 
of particles. Thus the necessity of contact involves that of 
particles, which emitted by bodies, obtain admittance by the 
organs into the brain, and there introduce into the mind what 
are called sensible ideas. The starting point of the whole 
theory is the necessity of contact, and in its result it comes 
out to depend upon intermediate particles and their action. 
These particles are, in other terms, the sensible species of the 
Peripatetic Scholasticism, to which modern physics has done 
justice. There is at the present day no more talk about so- 
norous, visible, tangible species ; nor can there of course 
be any more question about their emission, nor consequently 
about the principle by which they were engendered, namely, 
the necessity of contact and impulse as the condition of ac- 
quiring sensible ideas. All this at the present day is only an 
obsolete' hypothesis, which it would be superfluous to stop to 
refute. Supposing sensible ideas, however, to be thus formed, 
once obtained under this condition, which is yet a chimera, 
let us see in what these ideas differ from each other. 

According to Locke, the ideas which we have of the pri- 
mary qualities of matter have this pecuUarity, that they re- 
semble their object ; while the ideas we have of secondary 
qualities have this as their peculiarity that they do not resem- 
ble their objects. 

B. IL ch. VIIL § 15 : " The ideas of primary quali- 
ties of bodies are resemblances of them, and their patterns do 
really exist in the bodies themselves ; but the ideas produced 
in us by these secondary qualities, have no resemblance of 
them at all." 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 151 

The ideas of secondary qualities do not then resemble those 
quaUties. Very well ; I am, therefore, according to the theory 
of Locke, to conclude of course, that the ideas of secondary 
qualities are mere chimera, and that we have no knowledge 
of these qualities. In fact, recollect that according to Locke, 
all knowledge depends upon ideas, and that there is no know- 
ledge except as far as the idea resembles its object. Now by 
the acknowledgment of Locke himself, the ideas of secon- 
dary qualities do not resemble these qualities ; therefore these 
ideas do not contain any knowledge. It cannot be said that 
we have indeed a knowledge, though incomplete, of the 
secondary qualities of bodies. If Locke had intended to say 
this, he should have said, according to his general theory, that 
the ideas of secondary qualities do represent, though incom- 
pletely, their objects. But he says they do not represent them 
at all, in any degree. They do not therefore involve any, even 
the most imperfect knowledge ; they contain no knowledge ; 
they are pure chimeras, like the ideas of fairies, of centaurs, <fcc. 
This consequence is necessitated by the theory of Locke. But 
is it in accordance with facts ; which it is our business to ex- 
plain, and not to destroy ? Is it in fact true, that we have no 
knowledge of the secondary qualities of bodies ? Far other- 
wise. The secondary quahties of bodies, smell, sound, taste 
and color, are for us decidedly real properties in bodies, to which 
we attribute the power of exciting in us certain modifications 
or sensations. We are not only conscious of these sensations, 
but we believe that they have causes, and that these causes 
are in the bodies. As we could conceive of bodies independently 
of these causes or powers, properties or qualities, we call these 
qualities secondary. We know them, I grant, only as causes of 
our sensations, while we are ignorant of their intimate essence ; 
but still we know them in this character and degree, and it is a 
real knowledge undeniably found in all mankind. Now do not 
forget that according to the theory of Locke, knowledge is al- 
ways subject to this condition, that the idea upon which know- 
ledge depends shall represent its object. You have undenia- 
bly the idea of the secondary qualities of bodies, so far forth 



152 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

as causes of your sensations. Now observe that according 
to the theory of Locke, this idea, which you all have, and 
upon which is founded almost all your conduct, and of human 
life at large, — this idea cannot be true, cannot be the founda- 
tion of any legitimate knowledge, except upon condition that 
it shall be conformed to its object, to the causes of your sen- 
sations, to the secondary quaUties of bodies. And when I 
say conformed to them, recollect distinctly that the condition 
of conformity is nothing less than that of resemblance, and 
that the condition of resemblance is nothing less than that of 
being an image, a sensible and material image ; for there is 
no immaterial image. The question, then, resolves itself to 
this : whether you have, or have not a material image of the 
secondary quahties of bodies, that is to say, of those proper- 
ties of bodies which cause in you the sensations of color, 
sound, taste and smell. Let us see, then, what the material 
image of a cause can be. A cause, in so far forth as a cause, 
(and the secondary properties or qualities of bodies are noth- 
ing else,) has no form, no color ; what material image then 
can be made of it ? A cause, whatever it be, whether you 
place it in the mind, or in what we call matter, is always a 
cause, it is never any thing but a cause ; and so far forth as 
it is a cause, it falls neither under the hand, nor the eye ; it 
falls under none of our senses. It is then something of which 
in strictness you can have no sensible idea, no idea-image, no 
material image. Then, since you have not, and cannot have 
the image of a cause, and since secondary quaUties of bodies 
are given you only as causes, it follows that you cannot have 
any true idea, any legitimate knowledge of the secondary 
qualities of bodies. It follows in strictness that you cannot 
have any knowledge of them, legitimate or illegitimate, and 
that these qualities ought to be to you as though they had 
never been ; since according to the theory of Locke, you 
could not have attained them except by images more or less 
faithful which you had formed of them, images however which 
in this case are altogether and absolutely wanting. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 153 

The denial of the secondary qualities of bodies is, then, the 
inevitable result of the theory, that every idea, to be true, must 
represent its object. This result is unavoidable ; experience 
however gives the lie to it, and in so doing, refutes the princi- 
ple. The ideas of the secondary qualities do not resemble 
their objects in any way, and nevertheless they contain a cer- 
tain knowledge ; it is not therefore true that all knowledge 
supposes the resemblance of the idea to its object. 

The theory of Locke breaks to pieces upon the secondary 
quaUties of bodies ; let us see if it will be more fortunate in 
respect to primary qualities, 

Sohdity is by eminence the primary quality. Solidity with 
its degrees, hardness or softness, penetrability or impenetrabil- 
ity, envelopes extension, which contains size and form ; these 
are chiefly the primary qualities of bodies. Locke declares 
expressly that the ideas of primary qualities resemble those 
qualities ; this is their title of legitimacy in his view. This 
theory at first sight, might seem to be true in regard to one 
point, that which respects form. In fact, the form of objects 
which pertains to extension, which also pertains to solidity, 
paints itself upon the retina. Experience attests this, and the 
conformity of these images to their objects, seems indeed the 
foundation of the truth of the ideas which we have of the 
form of objects. But even here it is only a false semblance. 

If the resemblance of the image on the retina to the form 
of the external object, is the foundation of our knowledge of 
the form of that object, it follows that this knowledge cannot 
be acquired, and never could have been acquired, but upon 
the following conditions : 

1. That we should know there is some image upon the 
retina. 

2. That, by some process, comparing the image upon the 
retina to the external object, we should find the image upon 
the retina, in fact, similar to the object, as to form ; then, and 
only then, by the theory of Locke, should we be certain that 
the idea which we have of the form of this object is true, and 
our know^ledge in regard to it certain. 

14* 



154 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

All these conditions are necessary ; but are they fulfilled in 
the fact of our knowledge of the forms of external objects 1 
By no means. In the first place, the knowledge of the im- 
age upon the retina is altogether a subsequent acquisition of 
experience and of psychology. The first men who believed 
that they had before their eyes figured bodies, knew nothing 
in the world about the images upon the retina. Still farther 
were they from inquiring whether these images, of which 
they knew nothing, were conformed to the forms of the bo- 
dies which they knew ; and consequently the condition im- 
posed upon the human mind of know^ing first the image up- 
on the retina, and then verifying the conformity of this im- 
age with its object, is not the process Avhich the mind, left to it- 
self" and without any system, naturally employs, in order to 
know the forms of bodies. — Again, observe that if the accu- 
rate painting of the form of the object upon the retina, ex- 
plains the secret of the perception of that form, it is necessa- 
ry that this picture, this image, should pass from the retina to 
the optic nerve, from the optic nerve to the brain, which Locke 
calls the audience chamber of the soul, and from this audi- 
ence chamber it must gain admittance to the mind itself. 
But this process is arrested at every step. From the retina, 
the image must pass to the brain by the optic nerve. Now, 
who does not know that the optic nerve is situated in an 
obscure region impenetrable to the light ? The optic nerve is 
in the dark, no image can be painted on it, and our image is 
already lost. Farther, the brain, that audience chamber of 
the soul, is also in the dark ; the soul which, according to the 
theory of Locke, must observe the retina, in order there to 
meet with the image of the form of a body, which must dis- 
cern this image and its conformity to the original, can make 
this observation neither upon the optic nerve nor the brain. 

We have, so to say, shut up all the avenues of the soul 
against the hypothesis of the idea-image ; the idea-image is, 
then, nothing but a chimera in the mind. In the perception of 
the form of objects there are not, 1. figured objects ; 2. a mind 
capable of perceiving the figure of these objects ; 3. an inter- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 155 

mediate image between the real form of the objects and the 
mind. There are nothing but figured objects, and a mind en- 
dowed with the faculty of perceiving them with their forms. 
The existence of the image of the figure of objects upon the 
retina is a real fact, which is indeed the previous condition of 
the perception of visible appearances, but not the foundation 
of this perception ; which precedes, but does not in any way 
constitute nor explain it. The existence of the figure of ob- 
jects upon the retina, which is simply an external condition of 
the phenomena of vision, being transformed into a complete 
explanation of these phenomena, is the source of the hypoth- 
esis of the idea-image, so far as respects the perception of the 
forms of jobjects. It has also still another source. Not only 
is the mind endowed with the faculty of perceiving the forms 
of present objects, whenever certain organic conditions are 
fulfilled ; but also when these objects are absent, it is endowed 
with the faculty of recaUing them, not only of knowing what 
they were, but of representing them to itself as they were, and 
with the forms which they had been perceived to have while 
they were present. The memory actually has this imagina- 
tive power ; we may imagine objects altogether as we per- 
ceived them ; the fact is unquestionable. But in the imagina- 
tion of the forms of absent objects, as in the perception of the 
forms of present objects, there are only two terms, the absent 
objects, and the mind which is able to represent them though 
absent ; or rather in this case, there is really nothing but the 
mind which, in the absence of the objects, recalls them with 
their forms, as if they were present before it. Now in the 
mind which represents past objects to itself, poetry can indeed 
detach the representation from the objects, and consider it 
apart as a proper element subsisting by itself. This is a right 
of poetry, but not of philosophical analysis, which can never 
lawfully convert abstractions into realities. Abstraction taken 
for reality, the participle or adjective converted into a substan- 
tive, is, then, the second source of the hypothesis of the idea- 
image ; not to refer again to the vicious analogies, of the con- 



156 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

ditions of communication between bodies, applied to the 
mind. 

But to go further. Oar discussion has thus far respected 
only the form of external objects ; but how will it be if we 
come to the other primary qualities of bodies ; for instance, 
the primary quality par excellence^ namely, solidity ? Would 
you dare revive the scholastic hypothesis of the tangible spe- 
cies^ in order to provide a companion to the visual image up- 
on the retina ? Would you put this tangible species upon the 
mysterious paths of the nerves and brain which the image of 
forms could not traverse ? Be it so. Suppose a tangible spe- 
cies ; suppose this idea-image of solidity arrived at the mind, 
and there let us see if it satisfies the fundamental condition of 
the theory of Locke. Let us see whether it is conformed, or 
not conformed to its model, to solidity itself. What is solidity ? 
We have shown that it is resistance. Where there is no re- 
sistance, there is to us nothing but ourselves. Where resist- 
ance begins, there begins for us something besides ourselves, 
the outward, the external, nature, the world. Now if solidity 
is something which resists, it is a resisting cause ; and we are 
here, again, in respect to the primary quality of bodies, as be- 
fore in respect to their secondary qualities, led back to the idea 
of cause. Here, then, also, in order that we may have a legit- 
imate knowedge of the resisting cause, of solidity, it is neces- 
sary that we should have an idea of it, which is conformed 
to it, which is similar to it, an image, a material image of the 
resisting cause. Such, according to Locke, is the systematic 
condition of the primary quahty of body. But I have shown 
that there cannot be a material image of any cause, and of 
course not of a resisting cause, of solidity, the fundamental 
quality of body. 

Thus we have no longer a legitimate idea of the primary 
qualities of bodies, any more than of their secondary quahties, 
if we are to have it only upon the condition of the idea being 
a material image of its object. But we are not yet done. We 
are yet only at the threshold of the external world. Not on- 
ly has body primary and secondary qualities, which I have 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 157 

just shown to be incompatible with the theory of Locke ; but 
moreover, we beheve that under these quahties, there is some- 
thing which is the subject of them, something which has not 
only a real, but a permanent existence, while these qualities are 
in perpetual motion and alteration. We all believe in the ex- 
istence of a subject, of a substance for these qualities. Now in 
the theory of Locke, the idea of this substance is not legitimate, 
unless it be conformed to its object, that is, to the substance 
of bodies ; and the idea, to be conformed to its object, must 
be a material image. But I ask if it is possible to have a ma- 
terial image of substance ? It is obviously impossible. Then 
you have no idea of substance, and of the reality of bodies. 

Not only are you convinced of the real and substantial ex- 
istence of bodies, but you all believe that these bodies, of which 
the fundamental attribute is solidity, resistance, are some- 
where, in place, in space. You all have the idea of space. 
Now you cannot have it except on one condition, (according 
to Locke,) that the idea you have of it represents it, is its ma- 
terial image. But it is, we have seen, one of the character- 
istics of space, that it cannot be confounded with bodies which 
fill and measure it, but not constitute it. It is, then, a fortiori^ 
impossible that you should have a material image of that 
which has no material existence, when you cannot have one 
of bodies, and of their fundamental and accessory attributes. 

It is the same in regard to time. You believe that the mo- 
tions of bodies, and the succession of these different motions, 
take place in time, and you do not confound the succession of 
the motions of bodies with time itself, which is indeed measur- 
ed but not constituted by this succession, any more than the 
aggregate of bodies constitutes space. You have the idea of 
time as distinct from all succession. If you have it, by the 
theory of Locke, it is under the condition of having an idea 
conformed to it, an idea-image. But you cannot have an 
idea-image of time, since time is distinct from the motion of 
bodies and does not fall under any of the senses ; — you can- 
not therefore have a legitimate idea of time. 



158 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

I might pursue this criticism still farther, but I believe I 
have gone sufficiently far to demonstrate that if, relatively to 
the external world, our ideas are not true except upon condi- 
tion that they are representative ideas, conformed to their ob- 
jects, material images of their objects, we should have no le- 
gitimate idea of the external world, neither of the secondary 
rior primary quahties of matter, nor of their subject, nor of 
space, nor of time. The theory of a material image results 
in nothing less than the destruction of all legitimate know- 
ledge of matter and of the external Avorld. 

The objections which I have just presented are so natural 
and so simple, that Locke could not even lay down the prob- 
lem as he has done, without partially suspecting them, and 
they sufficiently pressed upon him to shake his conviction of 
the existence of the external world. He does not precisely 
call it in question, but he acknowledges that upon the founda- 
tion of the representative idea, (the only one which he con- 
ceived,) the knowledge of bodies has not perfect certainty ; he 
thinks however that it goes beyond simple probabiUty. " But 
yet, if after all," says Locke, " any one will question the exist- 
ence of all things, or our knowledge of any thing, I must de- 
sire him to consider that we have such an assurance of the 
existence of things without us, as is sufficient to direct us in 
the attaining the good, and avoiding the evil, which is caused 
by them ; which is the important concernment we have of 
being made acquainted with them." B. IV. ch. 10, § 8. 
This is almost the language of scepticism. Locke, however, 
is not sceptical in regard to the existence of bodies. He belongs 
to the great family of peripatetics and sensualists, in which 
the theory of sensible species had the authority of a dogma, 
and the office of giving and explaining the external world. 
Out of the sensible species, the seventeenth century, and 
Locke in particular, have made sensible ideas, provided with 
all the qualities of those species, representatives of their ob- 
jects, and emanating from them. There is then no ideahstic 
tendency in the theory of Locke. On the contrary, Locke is 
persuaded that these ideas, so far forth as they are represent- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 159 

ative, are the only solid foundation from which the know- 
ledge of external objects can be derived. Only he finds, and 
half acknowledges, that contrary to his wish, the peripatetic 
hypothesis of species, transformed into the modern theory of 
sensible ideas, turns out against his design, and that although 
this hypothesis has evidently a material character, since his 
ideas are necessarily material images, yet it is convicted of in- 
ability legitimately to give us matter. Judge, then, how it 
must be in regard to the spiritual world, the soul, and God. 
I shall be brief. Recollect the general principle of Locke. 
We have no legitimate knowledge of any thing, but upon 
condition that the ideas we have of it, be conformed to their 
object. Now all the world believe in the existence of the soul, 
that is to say, in the existence of something in us which 
feels, which wills, which thinks. Even those who do not 
believe in the spiritual existence of this subject, have never 
called in question the existence of its faculties, the existence 
of the sensibility, for example, or that of will, or of thought. 
Reflect then : you have no legitimate knowledge of thought, 
of volition, of sensibility, but upon the condition that the ideas 
you have of them are representative, and that these ideas are 
images, and of course material images. See then into what 
an abyss of absurdities we are thrown. In order to know 
thought and volition, which are immaterial, it is necessary that 
we should have a material image which resembles them. 
But what is a material image of thought, and of volition ? 
It is an absurdity even in regard to the sensibility. But the 
absurdity is, if possible, still greater, in regard to the substance 
of these faculties, in regard to the soul, and then in regard to 
the unity and identity of this soul, and then in regard to the 
time in which the operations of these mental faculties take 
place, sensations, volitions, and thoughts. 

See, then, the spiritual world fallen away and lost, as well 
as the material. Simply from the condition that we have no 
legitimate ideas of our faculties and of their subject, unless 
these ideas be material images of them, it evidently results 
that we have no legitimate knowledge of our soul, and of its 



160 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

faculties, of our whole internal being, intellectual and moral. 
Here the difficulty seems even much greater than in regard to 
the material world, or at least the successor of Bacon and of 
Hobbes is more startled by it. In respect to the material 
world, he had acknowledged that his theory was liable to 
some objections, but these objections did not seem to him insur- 
mountable, nor to go far enough to deprive us of a certain 
knowledge of the material world, sufficient for our wants. 
Hereby he pretended to open the door only to a semi-scepticism. 
It was without doubt a weakness ; for the idea of Locke, a 
material image, not in any manner representing bodies, nei- 
ther complete nor incomplete, he ought not to have admitted 
any idea of bodies ; he ought to have gone on to absolute scep- 
ticism. Locke, however, stops short, both from the good sense 
and from the evidence which, in his school, surrounds the 
senses and the physical world. But when he comes to the 
spiritual world, to which the sensual school is much less at- 
tached, the arguments which naturally rise up against him 
from his own theory, strike him more forcibly, and he declares 
(B. IV. ch. XL § 12,) that "we can no more know, that there 
are finite spirits really existing, by the idea we have of such 
beings in our minds, than by the ideas any one has of fairies, 
or centaurs, he can come to know that things answering those 
ideas do really exist. Here it would seem is absolute scepti- 
cism ; you may think, perhaps, that the final conclusion of 
Locke will be, that there is no knowledge of finite spirits, nor 
consequently of our soul, nor of any of its faculties ; for the 
objection is as valid against the phenomena of the soul as 
against its substance. This is, indeed, the result to which he 
should have gone on ; but he did not dare to do it, for there is 
no philosopher at once wiser and more inconsistent than Locke. 
What then does he do ? 

In the peril into which his philosophy has driven him, he 
abandons his philosophy, and all philosophy, and appeals to 
Christianity, to revelation, to faith. By faith, however, and 
by revelation, he does not understand a philosophical faith and 
revelation. This interpretation did not exist in the age of 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 161 

Locke. He understands faith and revelation in the proper 
orthodox theological sense. His conclusion is this : (section 
before cited,) " Therefore, concerning the existence of finite 
spirits, as well as several other thingSj we must content our- 
selves with the evidence of faith." Thus Locke here himself 
acknowledges and accepts the inevitable consequences of his 
theory, to which I wished to conduct him. Speaking as a 
philosopher, and not as a theologian, in the name of the human 
mind, and not in the name of a creed, I said that if we had no 
other reason to believe in the existence of spirit than the hypo- 
thesis of the representative idea, we had no good reason to be- 
lieve at all. Locke admits it, he proclaims it himself, and he 
throws himself into the arms of faith. I shall not leave him 
there. 

The world of faith is as much shut up against him, as the 
world of mind and of matter. He could never have pene- 
trated it, but by the grossest paralogism. Locke has no more 
right, nay, he has even less right, to believe in faith, in reve- 
lation, in Christianity, than in finite spirits such as we are, 
and in matter which is before us. 

Revelation supposes two things: 1. doctrines emanating 
from God ; 2. a book in which these doctrines are deposited 
and preserved. This book, though its contents may be di- 
vine and sacred, is itself necessarily material, it is a body ; 
and here I refer Locke to the objections already brought 
forward against the legitimate knowledge of bodies, if we 
have no other ground for believing in them than the idea- 
image which represents them. Thus there is no legitimate 
knowledge of the book, in which are contained the sacred 
doctrines revealed by God. What, then, becomes of the 
doctrines it contained ? Besides, these doctrines come from 
God. 

And what is God? A spirit, an infinite spirit, as we 
judge. Now, Locke has not yet been able, by his theory, to ad- 
mit the legitimate existence of finite spirits ; and, incredible to 
tell, in order to make me admit the existence of finite spirits, 
he proposes that I should begin by admitting the existence 
15 



162 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

of an infinite spirit. But is not this to explain ohscurum per 
obscurius, [to solve the lesser difficulty by presenting a great- 
er]? See the human mind deprived of the knowledge of 
finite spirits, because it can have no ideas conformed to them, 
and yet, from its greater facility, having an idea of the infi- 
nite spirit, perfectly representing its object ! But if a finite 
spirit cannot be represented, much less can the infinite spirit 
be represented ; evidently it cannot be, under the condition of 
Locke, that is, under the condition of forming an image, and 
a material image of it. There is, then, no infinite spirit, no 
God, [that is, we have no knowledge of him, no right to be- 
lieve] ; therefore, no revelation is possible. Every where, at 
every step, in the theory of Locke, we are plunged from depth 
to depth in the abyss of paralogism. 

If it is true that we have no legitimate knowledge, no true 
idea, but under the condition that this idea represents its ob- 
ject, and is conformed to it, is an image, and (as I have 
proved to be in strictness the necessary result of the hypothe- 
sis,) a material image of it, — then it follows, that we have 
no legitimate idea of the external world, nor of the world of 
spirits, souls, ourselves, and still less of God, to whom Locke 
appeals'. Consequently it follows, in the last analysis, that we 
have no true idea of beings, and that we have no other legiti- 
mate knowledge than that of our own ideas ; none of their 
object, whatever it be, even of our own personal being itself. 
This consequence overwhelms this theory of ideas, and it is a 
consequence which invincibly follows from this theory.* 

* See Appendix, Note A A. 






CRITICAL EXAMINATION 



OP 

LOCKE'S ESSAY 

ON 

THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 



CHAPTER SEVENTH 



CONTENTS OF CHAPTER SEVENTH. 

Resumption and continuation of the preceding chapter. — Of the 
idea, not now considered in relation to the object which it should repre- 
sent, but in relation to the mind which perceives it, and in which it is 
found. — The idea-image, idea taken materially, implies a material sub- 
ject ; from hence materialism. — Taken spiritually, it can give neither 
bodies, nor spirit. — That the representative-idea, laid down as the sole 
primitive datum of^ the mind, in the inquiry after reality, condemns us to 
a paralogism ; since no representative idea can be decided to represent 
correctly or incorrectly, except by comparing it with its original, with 
the reality itself, to which, however, by the hypothesis, we cannot arrive 
but by the idea. — That knowledge is direct, and without an intermedi- 
ate.— Of judgments, of propositions and ideas. — Return to the question 
of innate ideas. 



CHAPTER YIL 

I NOW resume and complete the last lecture. According to 
Locke, knowledge consists entirely in the relation of the idea 
to its object ; and this knowledge is true or false, according as 
the relation of the idea to the object is a relation of conformity 
or of non-conformity. An idea, to be true, to be the founda- 
tion of real knowledge, must be similar to its object, must re- 
present it, be an image of it. Now what is the condition of 
an image ? There is no image without figure, without some- 
thing of extension, without something sensible and material. 
The idea-image then implies something material ; and if the 
truth of knowledge resolves itself into the conformity of the 
idea to its object, it resolves itself into the conformity of an 
image, taken materially, to its object, of whatever sort the ob- 
ject be. 

Observe that the representative idea, as the basis of know- 
ledge, is in Locke a universal theory, without limit, without 
exception. It should then explain all knowledge ; it should 
go as far as human knowledge can go ; it should then em- 
brace God, spirits, and bodies, for all this falls more or less un- 
der knowledge. If then we can know nothing, neither God, 
nor spirits, nor bodies, except by the ideas which represent 
them, and which represent them by being material imag-es of 
them, the question is : whether we have ideas of these objects, 
these beings, which are faithful images of them, taken mate- 
rially. 

The problem thus reduced to its most simple expression, has 
been easily solved. I think it has been clearly demonstrated 
that the external world itself, which the idea-image would 
seem most easily to give us, entirely escapes us, if it can be 
got at only by the idea-image ; for there is no sensible idea 
15* 



166 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

which can be an image of the world, of external objects, of 
bodies. 

In regard to bodies, we have considered first their secondary 
qualities so called, which you know are properties in their na- 
ture out of our reach, and appreciable only by their effects, 
that is to say, are pure causes, the causes of our sensations. 
Now it is evident there is, and can be no material image of a 
cause. — In respect to the primary qualities of bodies, there is 
one among them, namely, figure, which would seem proper to 
be represented by the idea-image ; and in fact it is certain that 
the visible appearance, the figure of external bodies placed 
before the organ of vision, is painted upon the retina. But, 
1. the person who first knew the visible figure of a body was 
entirely ignorant that this visible figure was painted upon his 
retina ; it is not, then, to the knowledge of this picture upon 
the retina and of the confoniiity of this picture to its object, 
that the knowledge of the reality of the external figure is 
owing : 2. then this picture stops at the retina ; in order to go 
to the brain, which, as Locke says, is the audience chamber of 
the mind, it is necessary that it should traverse the optic nerve 
which is in an obscure region ; and even if the optic nerve 
were in, a luminous position, the image, after having traversed 
it, and arrived at the brain, would perish in the darkness of 
that organ, before arriving at the mind. Thus it is indeed the 
condition of the phenomena of vision that there should be an 
image of the object upon the retina, but is only a condition, 
and not the foundation and explanation. Besides, if the idea- 
image plays a certain part in the phenomena of vision, it does 
not apply at all to other phenomena, to those of touch, for ex- 
ample, from which we derive the knowledge of the primary 
quality of body, par excellence^ namely, of solidity, resist- 
ance. We have demonstrated that there can be no idea-image 
of resistance, of solidity ; for the idea of solidity resolves itself 
into the idea of a cause, a resisting cause, and it has been de- 
monstrated that there can be no idea-image of cause. 

So much for the primary and secondary qualities of bodies. 
If the idea-image represents no quahty of bodies, still less can 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 167 

it represent the subject of these quaUties, that substratum 
which escapes the grasp of the senses, and which of course 
can fall under no image borrowed from the senses. Space 
aJsOj which must not be confounded with bodies enclosed by it, 
cannot be given by an idea-image. It is the same in respect 
to time ; it is the same in respect to every sort of knowledge 
involved in the general knowledge of the external world. 
Since, then, the idea-image can represent only forms, and plays 
no part except in the phenomena of vision, and even there is 
only the external condition of those phenomena, it follows that 
if the external Avorld has no other way of arriving at the in- 
telUgence, than that of the representative idea, it does not and 
cannot arrive there at all. 

The difficulties of the hypothesis of a representative idea 
are greatly increased when we come to consider the spiritual 
world. Locke acknowledges these difficulties. He allows 
that, since in fact the idea-image cannot represent the qualities 
of spirits, because there is no image of that which has no 
figure, either we must renounce the knowledge of spirit, or to 
obtain it, we must have recourse to faith, to revelation. But 
revelation is for us a book which contains doctrines revealed 
by God. Here there are, then, two things, a book, and God, 
As to the book, we refer it to the external world : no represent- 
ative idea being able to give Certain knowledge of a sensible 
object, consequently giving none of a book, this book, sacred 
or not, can never be certainly knoAvn, nor be the foundation of 
certain knowledge of spiritual existence. — God remains ; but 
to have recourse to God in order to legitimate the knowledge 
of spirit, is to have recourse to spirit, in order to legitimate the 
knowledge of spirit ; it is to take for granted the thing in 
question. The only difference there is between the spirit of 
God, and our own, is that the spirit of God is infinite, while 
our spirit is finite, which, far from diminishing the difficulty, 
increases it. Thus the representative idea, turned every way, 
can give no real knowledge, neitlier of bodies, nor of spirits, 
and still less the knowledge of the infinite spirit to whom 
Locke gratuitously appeals. 



168 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

Absolute scepticism, then, is the inevitable consequence of 
the theory of the representative idea ; and absolute scepticism 
is nothing less than absolute nihilism. In fact you have 
legitimately by this theory, neither the secondary qualities of 
bodies, nor their primary qualities, nor the subject of these 
qualities, nor space in which the bodies are located, nor time 
in which their motions are accomplished. Still less legiti- 
mately have you the qualities of your mind, or your mind itself, 
or that of your fellow beings, the finite mind ; and still less 
God, the infinite mind. You have then nothing, absolutely 
nothing, but the idea itself, that idea which ought to repre- 
sent every thing, and which represents nothing, and suffers no 
real knowledge to come to you. 

You see then where we are ; but our difficulties are far from 
being exhausted. We have hitherto considered the idea-im- 
age in its relation to external objects which it should represent, 
namely, to bodies, to our spirits, and to God. Let us now con- 
sider it in another view, in its relation to the mind which 
must perceive it, and in which it must be found. 

The idea represents neither body, nor spirit, nor God ; it 
can then give no object. This we have demonstrated. But 
it necessarily is in a subject. How is it there ? What is the 
relation of the idea, not now to its object, but to its sub- 
ject ? 

Recollect the condition to which w^e have condemned the 
representative idea. If it represents, it must have in itself 
something of figure, something material ; it is, then, some- 
thing material. Look, then, at the representative idea which 
is something material in the subject where it is found. But 
it is clear that the subject of the idea, the subject which per- 
ceives, contains and possesses the idea, can be of no other 
nature than the idea itself The representative idea is some- 
thing figured, hke the shadows which paint themselves in a ma- 
gic lantern ; it can then exist only in something of an analo- 
gous kind, in a subject of the same nature, figured as the idea is, 
having parts, being extended and material, as it is. Hence, 
the destruction of the simplicity and spirituality of the subject 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 109 

of the idea, that is to say, of the soul, or in a word, material- 
ism is the consequence of the theory of the representative idea, 
considered in relation to its subject. 

This result was already in the principle ; this consequence 
does nothing but expose the vice of the origin of the represen- 
tative idea. In fact, the origin of this theory, as you know, 
is in the hypothesis that the mind does not know bodies, does 
not communicate with bodies, except in the same Avay that 
bodies communicate with one another. Now bodies commu- 
nicate, either by immediate impulse one upon the other, or in- 
directly by the intermediation of one or more bodies receiving 
and communicating the impulse, so that is always impulse 
which forms the communication between bodies. If mind, 
then, may know bodies, it must be by impulse. But we see 
no immediate and direct impulse of bodies upon the mind, nor 
of the mind upon bodies ; the impulse must then be from 
a distance, that is by something intermediate. This interme- 
diate is the idea. The idea emanates from the body, and 
through the senses arrives at the mind. The idea emanates 
from bodies, that is its first characteristic, the second is, that it 
represents them. Representation is here founded upon the 
emission. Now emission, which is the first root of the repre- 
sentative idea, necessarily makes it material. This shows al- 
ready a strong inclination towards materialism ; look now at 
something which shows this tendency much more strikingly. 
Not only does the mind gain no knowledge of bodies, except 
as bodies communicate with one another ; but the mind knows 
minds only as it knows bodies, by the intermediation of the 
representative idea. A theory material in its origin, is first ap- 
plied to the knowledge of bodies, then transferred to the 
knowledge of spirit. It is then altogether natural that the 
last expression of this theory should be materialism. And I 
do not impose upon this theory merely its logically necessary 
consequences, but consequences which have been deduced 
from it. History is charged with the office of developing 
these consequences in the school of Locke. Upon this theory 
of the representative idea, the school of Locke in part, grounds 



170 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

its positive denial of the spirituality of the soul. According 
to that school, many ideas in the mind, taken materially, 
suppose something extended in the mind ; and even a single 
idea, being an image, is already something figured, which 
supposes a corresponding subject. The vulgar expression that 
ideas make an impression on the mind, is not in this school, a 
metaphor, it is the actual reality. I refer you to Hartley, to 
Darwin, to Priestly, and to their English and other successors. 
We shaU take them up in due time, and order. 

This consequence of the theory of the representative idea 
in relation to its subject is irresistible. But does any one wish 
to save the spirituality of the soul, and still preserve the theo- 
ry of the representative idea ? Then on the one side, there 
are material ideas, material images, and on the other, a simple 
soul, and consequently between the modification and its sub- 
ject an abyss. How to bridge over this abyss ? What rela- 
tion is there between the material image and the subject of 
this image, if this subject is held to be simple, unextended, 
spiritual 7 It is clearly necessary to find some intermediates 
between the idea-images and their subject, the soul. The 
images were before regarded as the media between bodies and 
the soul ; but now media are necessary between those first 
media or the idea-images and the soul. New media must be 
found, that is to say, new ideas. But these new ideas, in or- 
der to serve as media between the first ideas and the soul, must 
represent those ideas ; and in order to represent images they 
must themselves be images, and if images, then material. 
The difficulty constantly returns ; either the idea-images do 
not enter the soul, or they make the soul material. The at- 
tempt has been made to subtilize these ideas, to refine the in- 
termediate ; but either these refinements still leave it material, 
and of course the materiaUty of the image invincibly involves 
the materiality of its subject ; or, the idea-image, as material, 
must be given up, and retaining the theory of the representa- 
tive idea, the idea must be considered as spiritual. 

This has been done. The idea, as a material image, has 
been abandoned for a spiritual idea. But what is the result 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 171 

of this new modification of the representative theory under ex • 
amination? I grant that if the idea is spiritual, it permits a 
spiritual subject ; it gives room for believing in the simpUcity 
and spirituality of the soul. But then the hypothesis of emis- 
sion is evidently destroyed, and along with it, the theory of 
representation. Indeed, I ask what is this spiritual idea as the 
image of a material object 1 The mind has none of the fun- 
damental properties which constitute what we call matter ; it 
has then neither soHdity nor extension nor figure. But how 
can that which is neither solid, nor extended, nor figured, rep- 
resent that which is solid, extended, figured ? What can the 
spiritual idea of a solid be ? What the spiritual idea of ex- 
tension, of form ? It is evident that the spiritual idea cannot 
represent body. And can it any better represent spirit ; Still 
less. For what is that which represents, what is that which is 
endowed with a representative power? Once again, there is 
no representation where there is no resemblance, and there is 
no resemblance except between figures or forms. That which 
is figvued can resemble that which is figured ; but where there 
is no figure, there is no possible matter for resemblance, nor 
consequently for representation. Spirit cannot represent spirit. 
A spiritual idea cannot in any way represent any spiritual 
quality, nor any spiritual subject ; and the spiritual idea-im- 
age which destroys the possible knowledge of body, destroys 
no less, nay even more decidedly destroys the possible know- 
lege of spirit, of finite spirits such as we are, and of the infi- 
nite spirit, God. From the bosom of sensualism there proceeds 
a kind of idealism which along with matter^ does away also 
with mind and with God himself. And do not think, I be- 
seech you, that it is merely reasoning which derives these new 
consequences from the theory of ideas. As Hartley and Priest- 
ley prove that I have not gratuitously derived materiahsmfrom 
the theory of ideas, taken as material images ; so here also 
feicts and the history of another branch of the school of Locke 
prove that it is not I who condemn the theory of the spiritual 
idea-image to the necessity of destroying both body and spirit. 
That it destroys body, seek in Berkeley, who armed himself 



172 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

with this theory, in order to deny all material existence. 
That it destroys spirit, seek in Hume, who taking from the 
hands of Berkeley the arms he had used for the destruction of 
the material world, and turning them against the spiritual 
world, has destroyed both the finite spirit which we are, and 
the infinite spirit, both the human soul and God. 

We must go to the extent of these principles. The represen- 
tative idea considered relatively to its subject and as a materi- 
al image, conducts directly to materialism ; taken spiritually^ 
it leads to the destruction of body and of spirit, to absolute 
scepticism, and absolute nihilism. Now it is an unquestiona- 
ble fact that we have the knowledge of bodies, that we have 
the knowledge of our mind. We have this knowledge, and 
yet we cotild not have obtained it by the theory of the repre- 
sentative idea. This theory therefore does not exhibit the true 
process of the human mind. According to Locke, the represen- 
tative idea is the only way of real knowledge ; then, this way 
failing us, we are in the absolute impossibility of ever arriv- 
ing at knowledge. We do arrive at it, however; consequently 
we arrive at it in some other way than by the representative 
idea, and consequently, again, the theory of the representative 
idea is- a chimera. 

I will now go further. I will change the ground altogeth- 
er. I will admit that the idea has a representative office ; I 
will admit the reality of this representation ; I will believe 
with Locke and all his partizans, that we know only through 
representative ideas, and that in fact ideas have the wonderful 
property of representing their objects. Let all this be so. 
But on what condition do ideas represent things ? On the 
condition, you know, of being conformed to them. I take for 
granted that if we did not know that the idea was conformed 
to its object, we should not know that it represented it ; we 
should have no true knowledge of this object. And again, 
upon what condition can we know that an idea is conformed 
to its object, is a faithful copy of the original which it repre- 
sents? Nothing more simple. The condition is that we 
should have known the original. It is necessary that we should 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 173 

have before our eyes both the original and the copy, in order 
to compare the copy with the original, and to pronounce that 
the copy is in fact, a faithful copy of the original. But sup- 
pose we had not the original, what could we say of the copy ? 
Could you say, in the absence of the original, that the copy 
which alone is before your eyes, is a faithful copy of the ori- 
ginal which you do not see, which you have never seen? 
Certainly not. You could neither be sure that the copy is a 
faithful, nor an unfaithful copy ; you could not even affirm 
that it is a copy. If we know things only through ideas, and 
if we know them only on the condition that the ideas faith- 
fully represent them, we can know that the ideas do faithfully 
represent them, only by seeing on the one hand the things 
themselves, and on the other the ideas of them. Then only 
could we pronounce that the ideas are conformed to their ob- 
jects. Thus, to know if you have a true idea of God, of the 
soul, of bodies, you must have, on the one hand, God, the soul, 
and bodies, and on the other, the idea of God, the soul, and 
bodies, in order that by comparing the idea with its object, you 
may be able to decide whether it is or is not conformed to its 
object. Let us choose an example. 

I wish to know, if the idea which I have of body is true. 
It is necessary that I should have both the idea which I form 
of body, and the body itself ; then that I should compare them, 
confront them, and decide. 

I take then from Locke the idea of body, just as Locke has 
himself furnished me with it. To know if it is true, I must 
compare it, I must confront it with body itself. This suppo- 
ses that I know body ; for if I do not know it, with what 
shall I compare the idea of body in order to know if it is true 
or false 1 We must then suppose that I know body. But 
how could I have come to know it ? By the theory of Locke, 
you know and you can know nothing but by ideas which rep- 
resent things to you. Now I know this body ; then by the 
theory of Locke, I know it only by the ideas which represent 
it to me ; therefore I do not know this body itself, the body 
which it is necessary for me to know in order to compare it 

16 



174 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

with the idea that I have of it ; I know only its idea, and it is 
its idea alone that I can compare with its idea, that is to say 
I have compared an idea with an idea, a copy with a copy. 
Here is still no original. The comparison, then, the verifica- 
tion is impossible. That the verification may conduct me 
to a result, it is necessary that this second idea which I have 
of body, should be a taie idea, should be conformed to its ob- 
ject. But I cannot know that this second idea is true, except 
on the condition that I compare it ; and with Avhat ? With 
the body, with the original. It is therefore necessary that I 
should know the body in some other way, in order to decide 
whether this second idea is conformed to it. Let us see then. 
I know the body ; but how do I know it. By the theory of 
Locke, again, I know it only by the idea I have of it ; there 
is here, then, nothing but an idea with which I can compare 
the second idea I had of body. I cannot pass beyond the 
idea ; go on in this way, as long as you please, you incessant- 
ly go round in a circle of ideas from which you cannot break 
forth, and which never allow you to get at the real object, nor 
lay the foundation of a legitimate comparison ; since such a 
comparison supposes that you have on the one hand the copy, 
and on the other the original ; w^hile in fact you have noth- 
ing but an idea, and then a second idea, and thus on, and of 
course can compare nothing but the ideas, the copies. And 
again, even to decide that they are copies, it is necessary that 
you should have had the original itself, which yet escapes, and 
forever will escape your grasp, in every theory of know- 
ledge which subjects the mind to the necessity of knowing on- 
ly through the intermediation of representative ideas. 

Thus in the last analysis, the object, the original, forever 
escapes the imrnediate grasp of the human mind, can never 
be brought under its regard, nor consequently be the basis of 
a comparison with the copy, the idea. You can never know 
then that the idea which you have of body is conformed or 
not conformed, faithful or unfaithful, true or false. You will 
have it without knowing even whether it has an object or 
not. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 175 

It is impossible to remain in this predicament ; and to assist 
Locke, I will now make a supposition. I will suppose, that 
in fact we have before our eyes not only the idea of the origi- 
nal, but the original itself. I will suppose, that we know the 
original directly ; the comparison is then possible. Let us go 
on to make it. Previously, however, I will remark, that the 
supposition I have made, — of an original directly known, 
which is the necessary basis of all comparison, but which 
comparison is the necessary basis of the theory of Locke, — 
this supposition just destroys entirely the theory. For, if we 
suppose that we have an original which we know directly, 
we suppose that we can know in some other way than by 
representative ideas. 

But I will proceed with the supposition ; and I ask whether 
this original, which we know directly^ and without the me* 
dium of representative ideas, is a chimera ? No ; if it were, 
to compare an idea with a chimerical object would lead you 
to nothing. You suppose, then, that it is indeed the original, 
the true original, the object, the body ; and you suppose that 
the knowledge you have of it is certain knowledge, knowledge 
which leaves nothing to be desired. See, then, what is your 
position. You have, on the one hand, the certain knowledge 
of body, and on the other you have an idea of this body, and 
you wish to know whether it is faithful or not. On these 
terms, the comparison is very easy; it is made of itself; having 
the copy and the original, you can easily tell if the one repre- 
sents the other. But this comparison, necessary by the theory, 
and now (by supposition) possible and easy, is also perfectly 
useless. What, indeed, was the object of this comparison 1 
It was to assist the theory of Locke ; it was to deduce from 
the comparison the certain knowledge of body. That is what 
you were seeking after. In order to get at it, you place the 
original beside the copy. But if you take for granted that 
you have the original, that is to say, certain knowledge of the 
body, the whole thing is done. There is nothing more to do. 
Let alone your comparison, your verification. Do not give 
yourself the trouble to investigate whether the idea is con- 



176 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

formed or not to the original. You possess the original ; that 
is enough; you possess the very knowledge you were seeking 
to gain. Thus, without having the certain knowledge of the 
original, you could never know whether the idea you have is 
faithful or not, and all comparison would be impossible : and 
as soon as you have the original, it is undoubtedly very easy 
to compare the idea with the reality ; but since you have the 
reality, it is altogether useless to compare the idea with it ; you 
have what you were in search of, and the very condition of 
the theory, the comparison namely which it requires, is pre- 
cisely the taking for granted the knowledge which you are 
seeking from the theory : that is, a paralogism, [a begging of 
the question.] 

. Such is the criticism, a little subtle, perhaps, but exact, 
which, pursuing in all its turnings the theory of the represen- 
tative idea, destroys and confounds it on every hand. Either, 
the representative does not represent and cannot represent, 
and consequently, if we have no other means of knowing 
things, we are condemned never to know them ; w^e are con- 
demned to a scepticism, more or less extensive, according as 
we are more or less consistent, and if we will be perfectly con- 
sistent, - to absolute scepticism both in respect to matter and 
mind, that is to say, to absolute nihilism. Or else, the idea 
does represent its object ; and in this case we can know that 
it faithfully represents its object only so far as we have the 
original, that is, so far only as we know matter and mind, 
things themselves, in some other way,' and then the interven- 
tion of the representative idea is possible, but it is useless. Its 
truth, the conformity of the idea to its object, can be demon- 
strated only by a supposition, which overthiows the very theory 
it was designed to sustain. 

Let us now deduce from this criticism the consequences it 
gives. 

First consequence : we know matter and mind, the world, 
the soul and God, otherwise than by representative ideas. 
Second and more general consequence: in order to know 
beings we have no need of an intermediate. We know things 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 177 

directly and without the medium of ideas, or of any other 
medium. The mind ig a faculty of knowing, which is in- 
deed subject to certain conditions, but which, when these con- 
ditions are once supplied, enters into exercise, developes itself, 
and knows, for the sole reason that it is endowed with ability 
of knowing. 

The history of the true developement of the understanding 
confirms this important result, and serves to put the theory of 
ideas in its true light. 

Primitively nothing is abstract, nothing is general ; every 
thing is particular, is concrete. The understanding, as I 
have proved, does not begin with these fornmlas : that there is 
no modification without its subject, that there is no body with- 
out space, <fcc. But a modification being given, it conceives 
a particular subject of this modification ; a body being given, 
it conceives that this body is in a space ; a particular succes- 
sion being given, it conceives that this particular succession is 
in a determinate time, &c. It is so with all our primitive con- 
ceptions ; they are all particular, determined, concrete. More- 
over, as I have also shown, they are blended together, all our 
faculties entering into exercise simultaneously, or nearly so. 
There is no consciousness of the slightest sensation without 
an act of attention, that is to say, without some developement 
of the will ; there is no volition without the sentiment of an 
internal causative power ; no sensation perceived without re- 
ference to an external cause and to the world, which we then 
conceive as in a space and in a time, (fee. In short, not to 
repeat here what I have said so many times, all our primitive 
conceptions are not only concrete, particular and determinate, 
but simultaneous ; and as the understanding does not com- 
mence by abstraction, but by particularity, so it does not com- 
mence by analysis, but by synthesis. Our primitive concep- 
tions, moreover, present two distinct characteristics ; some are 
contingent, others are necessary. Under the eye of conscious- 
ness there may be a sensation of pleasure or of pain, which I 
perceive as actually existing ; but this sensation may vary, 
change, disappear. From hence very soon may arise the con- 
16* 



178 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

viction that this sensible phenomenon which I notice, is indeed 
real, but that it may exist or may not exist, and therefore I may 
feel it or may not feel it. This is a characteristic which philo- 
sophers have designated as contingent. But when I conceive 
that a body is in space^ if I endeavor to conceive the contrary, 
that a body may be without space, I cannot succeed. This con- 
ception of space is a conception which philosophers have desig- 
nated by the term necessary. But from whence do all our con- 
ceptions, contingent or necessary, come ? From the faculty of 
conceiving, which is in us, by whatever name you call this 
faculty of which we are all conscious, mind, reason, thought, 
understanding, intelligence. The operations of this faculty, 
our conceptions, are essentially affirmative, if not orally, yet 
mentally. To deny even, is to affirm ; for it is to affirm the 
contrary of what had been first affirmed. To doubt also, is 
to affirm ; for it is to affirm uncertainty. Besides, we evidently 
do not commence by doubt or negation, but by affirmation. 
Now, to affirm in any way, is to judge. If, then, every intel- 
lectual operation resolves itself into an operation of judgment, 
all our conceptions, whether contingent or necessary, resolve 
themselves into judgments contingent or necessary; and all 
our primitive operations being concrete and synthetic, it fol- 
lows that all the primitive judgments, supposed by these ope- 
rations, are also exercised under this form. 

Such is the primitive scene of the intelligence. Gradually 
it unfolds itself. In the progress of this developement language 
supervenes, which reflects the understanding, and brings it, so 
to say, out of itself. If you open the grammars, you will find 
that they aU begin with the elements and go to propositions, 
that is, they begin by analysis and go to synthesis. But in 
reality the process is not so. When the mind translates itself 
into language, the primary expressions of its judgments are, 
like the judgments themselves, concrete and synthetic. Faith- 
ful images of the developement af the mind, languages begin 
not by w^ords, but by phrases, by propositions very complex. 
A primitive proposition is a whole, corresponding to the natu- 
ral synthesis by which the mind begins. These primitive 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 179 

propositions are by no means abstract propositions such as 
these : there is no quality without a subject, there is no body 
without space containing it, and the Uke ; but they are all par- 
ticular, such as : I exist, this body exists, such a body is in that 
space, God exists, <fec. These propositions are such as refer 
to a particular and determinate object, which is either self, or 
body, or God. But after having expressed its primitive, con- 
crete and synthetic judgments, by concrete and synthetic pro- 
positions, the mind operates upon these judgments by abstrac- 
tion ; it neglects that which is concrete in them to consider only 
the form of them, for example, the character of necessity with 
which many of them are invested, and which, when disen- 
gaged and developed, give instead of the concrete propositions : 
I exist, these bodies are in such a space, (fee, the abstract pro- 
positions : there can be no body without space, there can be 
no modification without a subject, there can be no succession 
without time, &c. The general was at first enveloped in the 
particular ; then from the complexity of the primitive fact, you 
disengage the general from the particular, and you express it 
by itself. But I have elsewhere sufficiently explained the for- 
mation of general propositions.* 

Language is the sign of the mind, of its operations and of 
their developement. It expresses at first primitive, concrete 
and synthetic judgments, by primitive propositions themselves 
concrete and synthetic. The judgments are gradually gen- 
eralized by abstraction, and in their turn the propositions be- 
come general and abstract ; and this process continues to go 
on. Abstract propositions, the signs of abstract judgments, 
are themselves complex, and contain several elements. From 
the propositions we abstract these elements, and consider them 
separately. These elements are called ideas. It is a great 
error to suppose that we have first these elements, without 
having the whole of which they are a part. We do not begin 
by propositions, but by judgments; the judgments do not come 
from the propositions, but the propositions come from the judg- 

* Chap. IV. 



180 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY> 

ments, which themselves come from the faculty of judgmg, 
which is grounded in the original capacity of the mind. ^1 
fortiori^ then, we do not begin by ideas ; for ideas are given 
us in the propositions. Take, for example, the idea of space. 
It is not given us by itself, but in this complete proposition : 
there is no body without space, which proposition is only the 
form of a judgment. Take away the proposition, which 
would not be made without the judgment, and you have not 
the ideas ; but as soon as language permits you to translate 
your judgments into propositions, then you can consider sepa- 
rately the different elements of these propositions, that is to 
say, ideas separately from each other. To speak strictly, there 
are in nature no propositions, neitlier concrete nor abstract, 
particular nor general, and still less are there ideas in nature. 
If by ideas be understood something real, which exists inde- 
pendently of language, and which is an intermediate between 
beings and the mind, I say that there are absolutely no ideas. 
There is nothing real except things, and the mind with its 
operations, that is its judgments. Then come languages, 
which in some sort create a new world, at once spiritual and 
material, those symbolic beings which are called signs, words, 
by the help of which they give a kind of external and inde- 
pendent existence to the results of mental operations. Thus, 
in expressing judgments or propositions, they have the appear- 
ance of giving reality to those propositions. The same is the 
case in respect to ideas. Ideas are no more real than proposi- 
tions, they have the same reality, the reahty of abstractions to 
w^hich lanoruaoe attaches a nominal and conventional exist- 
ence. Every language is at once an analyst and a poet ; it 
makes abstractions and it realizes them. This is the condi- 
tion of every language. We must be resigned to it, and speak 
in figures, provided we know what we are doing. Thus all 
the world talk of having an idea of a thing, of having a clear 
or obscure idea, (fee. ; but by this nobody intends to say, that 
we have no knowledge of things, except by means of certain 
intermediate things called ideas ; it is merely intended to mark 
the operation of the mind in reference to such a thing, the 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 181 

operation by which the mind knows the thing, knows it more 
or less, (fcc. We talk also of representing a thing, and fre- 
quently a thing which falls not under the senses ; this is merely 
saying that we know it, comprehend it, saying it, that is, by 
using a metaphor borrowed from the phenomena of the senses, 
and from the sense whose use is the most frequent, that of 
sight. Good taste is ordinarily the sole judge of the employ- 
ment of these figures. This metaphorical style may be car- 
ried and is frequently carried very far without obscurity or 
error. I absolve, then, the ordinary language of the bulk of 
mankind, and I believe that we may also absolve that of most 
philosophers, who commonly have spoken as the people, with- 
out being more absurd than the people. It is impossible, in 
fact, to forbid the philosopher all metaphors ; the only law 
which it is necessary to impose upon him, is not to insist upon 
metaphors, and not to convert them into theories. Perhaps 
the Scotch school, Avhich has taken up in the eighteenth cen- 
tury the old controversy against the representative idea, in the 
name of the common sense of the human race, has not been 
sufficiently aware that philosophers also make a part of the 
human race ; perhaps it has imputed too much to the schools, 
and been too wiUing to see every where the theory which it 
had undertaken to combat. But it has certainly rendered an 
eminent service to philosophy, in demonstrating that the idea- 
image is at the bottom nothing but a metaphor, and in doing 
justice to this metaphor, if seriously taken as endowed with a 
representative power. This latter is the vice into which Locke 
has fallen, and I have thought proper to signalize it with 
some care, as one of the most perilous rocks of the Sensual 
school. 

From the point at which we have now arrived, we can 
easily judge of the doctrine of innate ideas, the refutation of 
which occupies the whole of Locke's first book.* The time has 
now come to explain ourselves concerning this doctrine, and 
concerning the refutation of Locke. — Locke divides the gene- 
See Chap. -11. 



182 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

ral doctrine of innate ideas into two points, general propositions 
or maxims, and ideas. Now, we likewise reject the doctrine 
of innate propositions and ideas, and for a very simple reason : 
because there are in nature neither propositions nor ideas. What 
is there in nature ? Besides bodies there is nothing except 
minds, and among these, that which is ourselves, which con- 
ceives, and knows directly things, minds and bodies. And in 
the order of minds, what is there innate 7 Nothing but the 
mind itself, the understanding, the faculty of knowing. The 
understanding, as Leibnitz has profoundly said, is innate to 
itself; the developement of the understanding is equally innate, 
in this sense, that it cannot but take place, when the understand- 
ing is once given, with the power which is proper to it, [and the 
conditions of its developement supplied.] And, as you have 
seen, the developement of the understanding is the judgments 
which it passes, and the knowledge imphed in those judgments. 
Undoubtedly, these judgments have conditions, which belong 
to the domain of experience. Take away experience, and 
there is nothing in the senses, nothing in the consciousness, 
and consequently nothing in the understanding. But is this 
condition the absolute law of the understanding ? Might it 
not still judge, and develope itself without the aid of experi- 
ence, without an organic impression, without a sensation ? I 
neither affirm nor deny it ; hypotheses nonjingo^ as Newton 
said, I am not framing hypotheses. I state what is, without 
knowing what might be, what will be, or what may have 
been. I say, that in the hmits of the present state, it is an 
undeniable fact, that unless certain experimental conditions 
are supplied, the mind does not enter into operation, does not 
judge ; but I say at the same time, that as soon as these con- 
ditions are fulfilled, the mind, in virtue of its own capacity and 
force, developes itself, thinks, conceives, judges, and knows a 
multitude of things, which fall neither under consciousness, 
nor under the senses, as time, space, external causes, existences, 
and its own existence. There are no innate ideas, any more 
than innate propositions ; but there is a capacity, faculty or 
power innate in the understanding, that acts and projects it- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 183 

,ijif in primitive judgments, which, when language comes in, 
express themselves in propositions, and these propositions de- 
composed by abstraction and analysis, engender distinct ideas. 
As the mind is equal to itself in all men, the primitive judgments 
which it passes are the same in all men, and consequently, the 
propositions in which language expresses these judgments, 
and the fundamental ideas of which they are composed, are 
at once and universally admitted. One condition is how- 
ever, necessary, namely," that they should be apprehended. 
When Locke pretends that these propositions : " whatsoever 
is, 15," and " it is impossible for the same thing to be, and 
not to 6e," are propositions which are not universally nor primi- 
tively admitted, he is both right and wrong. Certainly, the first 
comer, the peasant to whom you should say : whatever is, is, and 
it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be^ would 
not admit these propositions, for he would not corhprehend 
them, because you speak a language which is not his own, 
the language of abstraction and of analysis. But that which 
the peasant does not admit and does not comprehend under 
its abstract form, he admits immediately and necessarily under 
the concrete and synthetic form. Ask this same man who 
does not comprehend your metaphysical language, whether 
under the different actions or sensations of which he is con- 
scious, there is not something real and subsistent, which is 
himself; and whether he is not himself the same to-day that 
he was yesterday; in a word, instead of abstract formulas, 
propose to him particular, determinate and concrete questions, 
and then human nature will give you an answer, because 
human nature, the human understanding, is in the peasant 
as really as in Leibnitz. — What I have just said concerning 
abstract and general propositions, I say concerning the simple 
ideas which analysis finds in these propositions. For example, 
ask a savage if he has the idea of God ; you ask him what 
he cannot reply to, for he does not understand it. But if you 
know how to interrogate this poor savage, you will see proceed 
from his intelUgence a synthetic and confused idea, which, if 
you know how to read it, contains already every thing which 



184 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

the most refined analysis could ever give you ; you will see 
that under the confusion of their natural judgments, which 
they neither know how to separate nor to express, the savage, 
the child, the idiot even, if he is not entirely one, admit origi- 
nally and universally all the ideas which subsequent analysis 
developes without producing, or of which it produces only the 
scientific form. 

There are, then, indeed, no innate ideas, nor innate propo- 
sitions, because there are no ideas nor propositions really exist- 
ing. Again, there are no general ideas and propositions uni- 
versally and primitively admitted under the form of general 
ideas and propositions. But it is certain, that the understand- 
ing of all men teems, so to say, with natuial judgments, which 
may be called innate in this sense, that they are the primitive, 
universal and necessary developement of the human mind, 
which finally is innate to itself, and equal to itself, in all 
men.* 

* See Appendix, Note BB. 



CRITICAL EXAMINATION 

OF 

LOCKE'S ESSAY 

ON 

THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 



CHAPTER EIGHTH. 



17 



CONTENTS OF CHAPTER EIGHTH. 

Examination of the fourth Book of the Essay on the Understanding 
continued. Of Knowledge. Its modes. Omission of inductive know- 
ledge. — Its degrees. False distinction of Locke between knowing and 
judging. — That the theory of knowledge and of judgment in Locke re- 
solves itself into that of a perception of agreement or disagreement 
between ideas. Detailed examination of this theory. — That it applies 
to judgments abstract and not primitive, but by no means to primitive 
judgments which implyj existence. — Analysis of the judgment : / 
exist. Three objections : I. the impossibility of arriving at real ex- 
istence by the abstraction of existence ; 2. that to begin by abstrac- 
tion is contrary to the true process of the human mind ; 3. that the 
theory of Locke involves a paralogism. — Analysis of the judg- 
ments : / thinkj this body exists^ this body is colored, God exists, <^c. 
— Analysis of the judgments upon which Arithmetic and Geometry 
rest 



CHAPTER EIGHTH. 

We have stopped some time at the entrance of the fourth 
Book of the Essay on the Understanding ; let us now pass 
within. This book treats of knowledge in general, of its dif- 
ferent modes, of its different degrees, of its extent and limits, 
with some applications. It is therefore, properly speaking. 
Logic with something of Ontology. The principle of this 
Logic rests upon the theory we have examined, that of the 
representative idea. We have seen that, with Locke, the con- 
dition of all legitimate knowledge is the conformity of the idea 
to the object ; and we have every way proved that this con- 
formity is nothing but a chimera. We have then already 
overthrown the general theory of knowledge, but we have 
overthrown it only in its principle. It is necessary now to ex- 
amine it in itself, independent of the principle of the represent- 
ative idea, and to follow it in its appropriate developement and 
consequences. 

Whether the idea is representative or not, it is a settled 
point in the system of Locke that the understanding does not 
commence by things but by ideas ; that ideas are the sole ob- 
jects of the understanding, and consequently the sole founda- 
tions of knowledge. Now if all knowledge necessarily de- 
pends upon ideas, then where there is no idea there is no 
knowledge, and every where that there is knowledge, there 
has necessarily been an idea. But the converse is not true, 
there is not necessarily knowledge, wherever there is an idea. 
For instance, in order that you may be able to have a correct 
knowledge of God, it is necessary that you should first have 
some idea of God ; but from your having some idea of God, 
it does not follow that you have a correct knowledge of him. 
Thus knowledge is limited by ideas, but it does not necessarily 
go along with and as far as ideas. 



188 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

B. IV. ch. 3. § L " We can have knowledge no farther 
than we have ideasJ^ Ibid, § 6. " Our knowledge is 
narrower than our ideas." If knowledge never surpasses 
the ideas and sometimes falls short of them, and if all know- 
ledge depends upon ideas, it is clear that knowledge can never 
be any thing but the relation of one idea to another ; and that 
the process of the human mind in knowledge is nothing else 
than the perception of a relation of some sort between ideas. 
B. IV. ch. 1, § 1. " Since the mind in all its thoughts and 
reasonings, hath no other immediate object but its own ideas? 
which it alone does or can contemplate, it is evident that our 
knowledge is only conversant about them." § 2. " Know- 
ledge then seems to me to be nothing but the perception of the 
connection and agreement, or disagreement and repugnancy 
of any of our ideas. In this alone it consists. Where this 
perception is, there is knowledge ; and where it is not, there 
though we may fancy, guess, or believe, yet we always come 
short of knowledge." 

Thence follow the different modes and degrees of know- 
ledge in the system of Locke. We know only when we per- 
ceive a relation of agreement or disagreement between two 
ideas. -Now we may perceive this relation in two ways : we 
may either perceive it immediately, and then the knowledge 
is intuitive ; or we may not be able to perceive it immediately, 
we may be obliged to have recourse to another idea, or to 
several other ideas, which we put between the two ideas whose 
relation cannot be directly perceived, so that thereby we may 
seize and apprehend the relation which escapes us. Know- 
ledge is then called demonstrative. (B. IV. ch. 2, § 1, — 2.) 
Locke there makes an excellent remark which ought not to be 
omitted, and for which it is just to give him credit. No doubt 
we are often compelled to resort to demonstration, to the in- 
terposition of one or more ideas, in order to perceive the latent 
relation of two ideas ; but this new idea which we inteipose 
between the two others, it is necessary that we should per- 
ceive its relation to each of the others. Now if the percep- 
tion of this relation between that idea and the two others, is 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 189 

not intuitive, if it is demonstrativcj it would be necessary to 
have recourse again to a new idea, and thus on ad infinitum. 
The perception of the relation between the middle term and 
the extremes must therefore be intuitive ; and it must be so in 
all the degrees of deduction, so that demonstrative evidence is 
grounded upon intuitive, and always supposes it. 

B. IV. ch. 2, § 7. " Each step must have intuitive evi- 
dence. Now in every step reason makes in demonstrative 
knowledge, there is an intuitive knowledge of that agreement 
or disagreement it seeks with the next intermediate idea, which 
it uses as a proof; for if it were not so, that yet would need a 
proof ; since without the perception of such argreement or dis- 
agreement, there is no knowledge produced. If it be perceiv- 
ed by itself, it is intuitive knowledge ; if it cannot be perceiv- 
ed by itself, there is need of some intervening idea, as a com- 
mon measure to show their agreement or disagreement. By 
which it is plain that every step in reasoning that produces 
knowledge, has intuitive certainty ; which when the mind 
perceives, there is no more required but to remember it, to 
make the agreement or disagreement of the ideas, concerning 
which we inquire, visible and certain. So that to make any 
thing a demonstration, it is necessary to perceive the immedi- 
ate agreement of the intervening ideas, whereby the agree- 
ment or disagreement of the two ideas under examination, 
(whereof the one is always the first, and the other the last in 
the account) is found. This intuitive perception of the agree- 
ment or disagreement of the intei mediate ideas, in each step 
and progression of the demonstration, must also be carried 
exactly in the mind, and a man must be sure that no part is 
left out." 

Thus intuition and demonstration are the different modes 
of knowledge according to Locke. But are there no others ? 
Have we not knowledge which we acquired neither by intui- 
tion nor demonstration ? How do we acquire a knowledge of 
the laws of external nature ? Take which you please, gravi- 
tation, for instance. Certainly there is no simple intuition and 
immediate evidence here ; for experiments multiplied and 

17* 



190 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

combined, are necessary to give the slightest law, and even 
this will not suffice, since the slightest law surpasses the num- 
ber, whatever it be, of experiments from which it is drawn. 
There is therefore need of an intervention of some other ope- 
ration of the mind besides intuition. Is it demonstration? 
Impossible ; for demonstration is the perception of a relation 
between two ideas by means of a thud, but it is upon this con- 
dition, that the latter should be more general than the two 
others, in order to embrace and connect them. To demon- 
strate is, in the last analysis, to deduce the particular from the 
general. Now what is the more general physical law from 
which gravitation can be deduced ? We have not deduced the 
knowledge of gravitation from any other knowledge anterior 
to it, and which involves it in the germe. How, then, have 
we acquired this knowledge, which we certainly have ; and in 
general, how have we acquired the knowledge of physical 
laws ? A phenomenon having been presented a number of 
times, with a particular character and in particular circumstan- 
ces, we have judged that if this same phenomena should ap- 
pear again in similar circumstances, it would have the same 
character ; that is to say, we have generalized the particular 
character of this phenomenon. Instead of descending from 
the general to the particular, we have ascended from the par- 
ticular to the general. This general character is what we 
call a law ; this law we have not deduced from a more gene- 
ral law or character ; we have derived it from particular ex- 
periments in order to transfer it beyond them. It is not a sim- 
ple resumption, nor a logical deduction ; it is neither simple 
intuition nor demonstration. It is what we call inductmu 
It is to induction that we owe all our conquests over nature, 
all our discoveries of the laws of the world. For a long time 
natural philosophers contented themselves with very limited 
observations which furnished no great results, or with specu- 
lations which resulted in nothing but hypotheses. Induction 
for a long time was only a natural process of the human mind, 
of which men made use for acquiring the knowledge they need- 
ed in respect tothe external world, without explaining it, and 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. I9i 

without its passing from practice into science. It is to Bacon, 
chiefly, we owe, not the invention, but the discovery and sci- 
entific exposition of this process. It is strange that Locke, a 
countryman of Bacon, and who belongs to his school, should 
in his classification of the modes of knowledge, have permit- 
ted precisely that one to escape him to which the school of 
Bacon has given the greatest celebrity, and placed in the 
clearest light. It is strange that the whole Sensual school, 
which pretends to be the legitimate offspring of Bacon, should, 
after the example of Locke, have almost forgotten the evi- 
dence of induction among the different species of evidence, 
and that at its first entrance upon what an experimental school 
should have done, it has neglected induction to bury itself in 
demonstration. This is the reason of the singular but unde- 
niable phenomenon, that in the eighteenth century, the logic 
of the Sensual school was scarcely any thing but a reflection 
of the peripatetic scholasticism of the middle age, of that 
scholasticism which admitted no other processes in knowledge 
than intuition and demonstration.* 

Let us now see what, according to Locke, are the different 
degrees of knowledge. 

Sometimes we know with certainty, without the least blend- 
ing of doubt with our knowledge. Sometimes also, instead 
of absolute knowledge, we have only probable knowledge. 
Probability also has its degrees, and its particular grounds. 
Locke treats them at large. I advise you to read with care 
the chapters, not indeed very profound, but sufficiently exact, 
in which he discusses the different degrees of knowledge. I 
cannot go into all these details, but will content myself with 
pointing out to you the fourteenth, fifteenth and sixteenth 
chapters of the fourth book. I shall particularly notice a dis- 
tinction to which Locke attaches great importance, and which, 
in my opinion, is without foundation. 

We either know in a certain and absolute manner, or we 
know merely in a manner more or less probable. Locke choo- 
ses to employ the term knowledge exclusively to signify abso- 

* See Appendix, Note CC 



192 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

lute knowledge, that which is raised above all probability. 
The knowledge which is wanting in certainty, simple conjec- 
ture, or presumption more or less probable, he calls judgment. 

B. IV. ch. 14. § 4 : " The mind has two faculties, conver- 
sant about truth and falsehood. Firsts knowledge^ whereby 
it certainly perceives and is undoubtedly satisfied of the agree- 
ment, or disagreement of any ideas. Secondly^ judg- 
ment, which is the putting ideas together, or separating them 
from one another in the mind, when their certain agreement 
or disagreement is not perceived, but presumed to be so ; which 
is as the word imports, taken to be so, before it certainly ap- 
pears." 

But the general usage of all languages is contrary to so lim- 
ited a sense of the word knowledge, a certain knowledge, or a 
probable knowledge is always spoken of as knowledge in its 
different degrees. It is so in regard to judgment. As lan- 
guages have not confined the term knowledge to absolute 
knowledge, so they have not limited the term judgment to 
knowledge merely probable. In some cases we pass certain 
and decisive judgments ; in others we pass judgments Avhich 
are only probable, or even purely conjectural. In a word, 
judgments are infallible, or doubtful in various degrees ; but 
doubtful or infallible, they are always judgments, and this dis- 
tinction between knowledge as exclusively infallible, and judg- 
ment as being exclusively probable, is verbal distinction alto- 
gether arbitrary and barren. Time has done justice to it by 
rejecting it ; but it seems to have spared the theory on which 
the distinction is founded, the theory which makes both know- 
ledge and judgment consist in the perception of a relation of 
agreement or disagreement between two ideas. All ver- 
bal distinction laid aside, to know or to judge, is with Locke 
nothing but to perceive, intuitively or demonstratively, a rela- 
tion of agreement or disagreement, whether certain or proba- 
ble, between two ideas. This is the theory of knowledge and 
of judgment according to Locke, reduced to its simplest ex- 
pression. From Locke it passed into the Sensual school, where 
it enjoys an undisputed authority, and forms the acknow- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 193 

ledged theory of judgment. It requires, then, and deserves a 
scrupulous examination. 

In the first place, let us accurately state the extent 
of this theory. It pretends not merely that there are judg- 
ments which are nothing else than perceptions of the re- 
lation of agreement or disagreement of ideas ; but it pretends 
that every judgment is subject to this condition. The ques- 
tion is concerning the truth of this universal assertion. 

Locke distinguishes four relations which the understanding 
may perceive between ideas, (B. IV. ch. I. § 3.) Ideas are 
either identical or diverse, a relation called by Locke identity 
or diversity ; they have also simply a relation of some sort un- 
determined and called by Locke relation ; they have a relation 
either of simple co-existence or of necessary connection ; and 
finally, they express a relation of real existence. Thus there 
can be only these four sorts of relations : 1. general relation ; 
9. identity or diversity ; 3. co-existence or necessary connex- 
ion ; 4. real existence. The whole question now before us is, 
whether these embrace every thing, whether there is not some 
knowledge, some judgment which escapes these categories. 
Let us see then. Let us go from knowledge to knowledge, 
from judgment to judgment ; if we can find no knowlege, no 
judgment, which is not the perception of one of these rela- 
tions, then the theory of Locke is absolute. If, on the contra- 
ry, we find a single judgment which escapes this condition, 
the theory of Locke, so far as it is set up for an unlimited and 
universal theory, is destroyed. 

Let us take some knowledge or judgment. I propose the 
following judgment : two and three are five. This is not a 
a chimera, it is a knowledge, a judgment, and it is certain. 
How do we acquire this knowledge, what are the conditions 
of this judgment ? 

The theory of Locke supposes three : I. that there are two 
ideas present to the understanding, known anterior to the percep- 
tion of relation ; 2. that there is a comparison of these two ideas ; 
3. that at the end of this comparison there is a perception of 
some relation between the two ideas. Two ideas, a compari- 



194 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

son of them, a perception of a relation derived from the com- 
parison : such are the conditions of the theory of Locke. 

Let us reflect : two and three make five. Where are the 
two ideas ? Two and three, and five. Suppose I had not 
these two ideas, these two terms, on the one hand, two and 
three, and on the other, five. Could I ever perceive that there 
was a relation between them of equality or inequality, identi- 
ty or diversity ? No, And having these two terms, if I did 
not compare them, should I ever perceive their relation. Cer- 
tainly not. And if in comparing them, their relation, spite of 
all my exertions, should escape my understanding, should I 
ever arrive at the result, that two and three make five 7 By 
no means. And suppose these three conditions to be supplied, 
is the result infallibly obtained ? I see nothing wanting to it. 
Thus far, then, the theory of Locke seems to work well. I 
will take another arithmetical example. But arithmetical ex- 
amples have this peculiarity, that they are all alike. What in 
fact are arithmetical truths but relations of numbers ? They 
are nothing else. Arithmetical knowledge then falls under 
the theory of Locke concerning knowledge ; and an arith- 
metical judgment, if the expression may be used, is nothing 
else than the perception of a relation of numbers. Thus far, 
then, the theory of Locke is perfectly sound. 

Shall we take Geometry ? But if geometrical truths are 
nothing but relations of magnitude, it is clee^r that no geome- 
trical truth can be obtained, except under the condition of hav- 
ing previously two ideas of magnitude, then of comparing 
them, and then of deducing a relation of agreement or disa- 
greement. And as all mathematics, as Newton has said, is 
only a universal arithmetic, it seems true that mathematical 
judgment in general is nothing but a perception of relations. 

Let us take other examples a little at hazard. I wish to 
know if Alexander is a truly great man. It is a question fre- 
quently agitated. It is evident that unless I have on the one 
hand the idea of Alexander, and on the other an idea of a truly 
great man, and unless I compare these two ideas, and perceive 
between them a relation of agreement or disagreement, I can- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 195 

not decide whether Alexander is a great man or not. Here 
again we must necessarily have two ideas, a particular idea, 
that of Alexander, and a general idea, that of a great man, 
and we compare these two ideas to know if they agree or dis- 
agree with each other, if the predicate can be affirmed of the 
subject, if the subject falls under the predicate, <fec. 

I wish to know if God is good. At first it is necessary 
that I should have the idea of the existence of God, of God 
so far forth as existing ; then it is necessary that I should have 
the idea of goodness, an idea more or less extensive, more or 
less complete of it, so as to be able after a comparison of the 
one with the other, to affirm that these two ideas have a rela- 
tion of agreement. 

Such are, indeed, the conditions of knowledge, of judgment 
in these different cases. But let us explain the nature of these 
different cases. In the first place, let us examine the mathe- 
matical truths which lend themselves so readily to the theory 
of Locke. Arithmetical truths, for example, do they exist in 
nature ? No. And why not ? Because these relations which 
are called arithmetical truths, have for their terms not con- 
crete quantities, that is to say, real quantities, but discrete, 
that is, abstract quantities. One, two, three, four, five, — all 
this has no existence in nature. Consequently, the relations 
between abstract and not real quantities no more have a real 
existence than their terms. Arithmetical truths are pure ab- 
stractions. — Again, does numeration and calculation begin, as 
in arithmetic, upon discrete and abstract quantities ? Does the 
human mind begin by abstract arithmetic ? By no means. 
It operates first upon concrete quantities, and it is only subse- 
quently that it rises from the concrete to the conception of those 
general relations which constitute arithmetical truths properly 
so called. They have two characteristics : 1. they are ab- 
stract ; 2. they are not primitive ; they suppose previous con- 
concrete judgments, in the bosom of which they reside until 
deduced by abstraction and raised to the height of universal 
truths. — The same may be said of the truths of geometry. 
The magnitudes with which geometry has to do, are not con- 



196 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

Crete magnitudes ; they are abstract, having no existence in 
nature. For there are in nature only imperfect figures, and 
the operations of geometry are conditioned by perfect figures, 
the perfect triangle, the perfect circle, ifec, that is to say, by 
figures which have no real existence, but are pure conceptions 
of the mind. The relations of abstractions can then be nothing 
but abstractions. — Still farther, the human mind no more be- 
gins by conceiving perfect figures, than it begins by conceiving 
the abstract relations of numbers. It first conceives the con- 
crete, the imperfect triangle, the imperfect circle, from which 
it subsequently deduces by abstraction the perfect triangle and 
circle of geometry. The truths of geometry are not then 
primitive truths in the human understanding. — The other 
examples which we have taken, the judgments upon which 
we have tiied the theory of Locke, namely, that Alexander is 
a great man, and that God is good, have the same character. 
They are problems instituted by later reflection and intelligent 
curiosity, in the progress of the ulterior developement of the 
understanding. And in a word, hitherto we have verified the 
theory of Locke only in respect to abstract judgments, and 
which are not prunitive. Let us now take judgments marked 
with other characteristics, and pursue the course of our ex- 
periments. 

Look at another knowledge, another judgment, which I 
propose for your examination : I exist. You no more doubt 
the certainty of this knowledge than of that which I first cited, 
that two and three make five. You would sooner doubt the 
first than this. Well, then, let us submit this certain know- 
ledge, this certain judgment : I exist, to the conditions of Locke's 
general theory concerning knowledge. 

I will recall the conditions of this theory: 1. two ideas ; 2. a 
comparison of the two ideas ; 3. perception of some relation of 
agreement or disagreement. 

Now, what are the two ideas which should be the two terms 
of this relation and the basis of the comparison ? It is the 
idea of I, or myself, and the idea of existence, between which 
it is the object to find a relation of agreement or disagreement. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 197 

Let us take good heed what we do. It is not the idea of 
our existence that is to be one of the two ideas which are to 
be the objects of comparison. For what are we seeking after? 
Our own existence. If we have it, we should not seek after 
it. We must not take the thing in question, our own exist- 
ence, for granted. The idea of existence which is to be here 
one of the terms of comparison, is therefore the idea of exist- 
ence in general, and not the particular idea of our own exist- 
ence. Such is the rigorous condition of the problem. — And 
what is the other idea, the second term of the comparison ? 
It is the idea of myself, the I. But what are we seeking after ? 
I or self, as existing. We are not, then, to take it for granted ; 
for that would be to take for granted the thing in question. It 
is not, then, the I, the myself, as existing, which should be 
the second term of the comparison ; but an I, a self, which 
must necessarily be conceived as distinct from the idea with 
which it is intended to compare it, in order to know if it agrees 
or not, namely the idea of existence. It is a self, then, which 
must be conceived as not possessing existence, that is to say, 
an I, a myself, abstract and general. 

An abstract idea of myself, and an abstract idea of exist- 
ence, — see the two ideas of which a comparison is to be made, 
in order to bring out the judgment in question ! Reflect, I 
pray you ; what are you in search of? Your own personal 
existence. Do not, then, take it for granted, since it is what 
you are seeking to find. Do not involve it in either of the 
two terms, from the comparison of which you are to get it. 
Since it should be only the product of the relation of these two 
terms, it should not be taken for granted in either of them, for 
then the comparison would be useless, and the truth would 
then be anterior to the comparison, and not (as the theory de- 
mands) the result of it. Such are the imperious conditions of 
the theory of Locke : two abstract ideas, the abstract idea of 
self, and the abstract idea of existence. We are now to com- 
pare these two ideas, to see if they agree or disagree with each 
other, to perceive the relation of agreement or disagreement 
which binds or separates them. In the first place I might re- 
18 



198 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

mark, in passing, upon the expression of agreement or disa- 
greement, and show how much it is wanting in precision and 
distinctness ; but I will not do so. I take the words as Locke 
gives them. I allow his theory to unfold itself freely; I shall 
not repress it, I merely wish to see where it will arrive. It 
starts from two abstract terms ; it compares them, and seeks a 
relation of agreement or disagreement between them, between 
the idea of existence and the idea of self It compares them, 
then ; so be it. And what is the result ? A relation, a rela- 
tion of agreement. So be it again. I wish to make here but 
one remark. It is that this relation, whatever it is, must neces- 
sarily be of the same nature as the two terms, which are its 
foundation. The two terms are abstract ; the relation must 
then necessarily be abstract. What will be the result, then, 
of the perception of the relation, which I am very willing to sup- 
pose, of agreement between the general and abstract idea of 
existence, and the general and abstract idea of self? A truth 
of relation of the same nature as the two terms on which it is 
founded, namely an abstract knowledge, a logical knowledge 
of the non-contradiction found between the idea of existence 
and the idea of self, of the Ego^ that is to say, the knowledge 
of the pure possibility of the existence of a self, of an Ego. 
But when you think, when you beheve, judge, that you exist, 
do you, I ask, merely pass the judgment that there is no con- 
tradiction between the general idea of self, and that of exist- 
ence ? Not at all. The object of thought is not a possible 
self, but a real self, that quite determinate self which no- 
body confounds with a logical abstraction. The question is 
not about existence in general, but about your own, your own 
altogether personal and individual existence. On the con- 
trary, the result of the judgment derived from the perception 
of a relation of agreement between the general and abstract 
idea of existence and the general and abstract idea of self, does 
not imply real existence. It gives, if you please, possible exist- 
ence, but it gives nothing more. 

See, then, to what we come ; there is no contradiction be- 
tween the idea of self, and the idea of existence. Now this 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 199 

result is not equivalent to that which is implied in the natural 
judg-ment passed by you when you say: I exist. The one is 
not the other. The theory of Locke gives the former only, 
but not the latter. This is the first vice of his theory. Look 
now at another. 

The judgment : I exist, is eminently a primitive judgment. 
It is the starting point of knowledge. Obviously you can 
know nothing before yourselves. Now in the theory of Locke, 
the two ideas upon which the judgment acts, and between 
which it is the object to discern the relation of agreement, are 
necessarily two abstract ideas. The radical supposition then 
of the theory of Locke is that the human mind, in regard to 
knowledge, commences by abstraction, a supposition gratuit- 
ous and falsified by facts. In fact we commence by the con- 
crete and not by the abstract, and even if it were possible, 
(what I deny, and what I have demonstrated to be impossible,) 
to derive reality from abstraction, it would remain no less true 
that the process which Locke imputes to the human mind, is 
not that which the mind employs. 

The theory of Locke can give only an abstract judgment 
and not a judgment which reaches to real existence ; and his 
theory, moreover, is not the true process of the human mind. 
Still farther : this theory involves a paralogism. 

In fact Locke proposes to arrive at the knowledge of real 
and personal existence by a comparison of the idea of exist- 
ence and the idea of self, by bringing them together in order 
to discern their relation. But in general, and to finish the 
question at a single stroke, the abstract being given us only 
in the concrete, to derive the concrete from the abstract is to 
take as a principle what could have been had only as a con- 
sequence ; it is to ask what we are in search of, from precisely 
that which we could never have known but by means of that 
which we are in search of. And in regard to this particular 
case, under what condition have you the general and abstract 
idea of existence, and the general and abstract idea of 
self, which you compare in order to derive fi-om them 
the knowledge of your own existence ? Under this condition : 



200 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

that you have aheady had the idea of your own existence. 
It is impossible that you should have ascended to the general- 
ization of existence without having passed from the know- 
ledge of some particular existence ; and as neither the know- 
ledge of the existence of God, nor that of the existence of the 
external world can precede that of your own, it follows that 
the knowledge of your own existence cannot but have been 
one of the bases of the abstract and general idea of existence : 
consequently to set out to derive the knowledge of your own 
existence from the general idea of existence, is to fall into 
an evident paralogism. If Locke had not known that he exist- 
ed, if he had not already acquired the knowledge of his own 
self, real and existent, he could never have had the general and 
abstract idea either of a self, nor of existence, those very ideas 
from which he seeks to obtain the knowledge of his personal 
self and existence.* 

Thus we have three radical objections against the theory of 
Locke : 

1. It starts from abstractions ; consequently, it gives only 
an abstract result, and not the one your are seeking. 

2. It starts from abstractions, and consequently it does not 
start from the true starting-point of the human intelligence. 

3. It starts from abstractions, which it could never have 
obtained but by the help of concrete knowledge, the very con- 
crete knowledge that it pretends to derive from the abstrac- 
tions wherein they are taken upon supposition ; consequently, 
it takes for granted the thing m question. 

The theory of Locke breaks down under these three objec- 
tions. It is impossible to derive the real existing self from the 
forced and artificial bringing together of the abstraction, exist- 
ence, and the abstraction, self. But even if this were possible, 
it is not the process of the human mind, which it is our busi- 
ness to retrace and reproduce. And again, the process which 
the theory arbitrarily puts in its stead, is possible only under 
the condition of taking for granted the thing in question. — 

* See Appendix, Note CC, for proof that this charge cannot be brought 
against the cogito ergo sum. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 201 

The judgment: I exist, escapes, therefore, in every way from 
the conditions of the theory of Locke. 

This judgment has two characteristics : 1. It is not abstract: 
it impHes existence ; 2. It is a primitive judgment : all others 
take it for granted, involve the supposition of it, while in it no 
other is involved. 

Now observe, it was in regard to abstract, and if you will 
allow the expression, ulterior judgments that the theory of 
Locke was before seen to hold true. But in this latter instance, 
the judgment implies existence, and is primitive ; and the 
theory can no longer be verified. It remains, therefore, to 
choose between the theory, and the certainty of personal 
knowledge ; for the former is absolutely unable to give the 
latter. 

So»much for personal existence. It is the same in regard 
to all the modes of this existence, to our faculties, our opera- 
tions, whether sensation, or will, or thought. 

Take whatever phenomenon you please : I feel, I will, I 
think. Take for instance : I think. This is commonly called 
a fact of consciousness ; but to be conscious is still to know, 
[conscire sibi,) it is to beUeve, to affirm, to judge. When you 
say: I think, it is a judgment which you exercise and express; 
when you are conscious of thinking, and do not say so, it is 
still a judgment which you exercise without expressing it. 
Now this judgment, whether expressed or not, implies exist- 
ence ; it implies that you, a real being, actually exercise the 
real operation of thinking. Moreover, it is a primitive judg- 
ment, at least contemporaneous with the judgment that you 
exist. 

Let us test the theory of Locke in regard to this judgment, 
as we have tested it in regard to that other primitive and con- 
crete judgment : I exist. 

Three conditions are necessar))' by the theory of Locke, in 
order to explain and legitimate the judgment : I think ; namely, 
two ideas, their comparison, a perception of relation between 
them. What in this case are the two ideas ? Obviously the 
idea of thinking on the one hand, and ^oi 1 or myself, on the 

18* 



202 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

other. But if it is the idea of thinking distinct from self, it is 
thinking considered apart from the subject, the I, from that 
subjective I, which is, you will not forget, the basis of all exist- 
ence : it is, then, thinking abstracted from all existence, that 
is abstract thought, that is to say, the simple power of think- 
ing, and nothing else. On the other hand, the self, which is 
the other necessary term of the comparison, cannot be a self 
which thinks, for you have just separated it from thought ; it 
is, therefore, a self, which you are to consider abstracted from 
thinking. For if, in fact, you should suppose it thinking, you 
would have what you are in search of, and there would be no 
need of your making a laborious comparison. You might 
stop at one of the terms, which would give you the other, the 
self as thinking, or I think. But to avoid paralogism, you 
must suppose it as not thinking ; and as your first legitimate 
term is thought separated from self, your second legitimate 
term must be self separated from thought, a self not thinking. 
And you wish to know if this self, taken independently of 
thinking, and this thinking taken independently of self, have 
a relation to each other of agreement or disagreement. Such 
is the question. It is then two abstractions you are going to 
compare. But once again, two abstract terms can engender 
only an- abstract relation, and an abstract relation can engen- 
der only an abstract judgment, namely, the abstract judgment, 
that thinking and self are two ideas which imply no contra- 
diction. Thus the theory of Locke applied to this judgment : 
I think, as to the other judgment : I exist, gives nothing but 
an abstract result, [the possibility of the truth of the proposi- 
tion : I think, but not its actual truth, its reality,] an abstract 
truth which in no respect represents what passes in your 
mind when you judge that you think, and when you say : I 
think. 

Then, too, the theory of Locke makes the human mind be- 
gin by abstraction ; but this is not the process by which it ac- 
tually commences. 

Finally, it not only makes the mind to begin by abstraction, 
but also to derive the concrete from the abstract, while in point 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 203 

of fact you could never have had the abstract, if you had not 
previously had the concrete. You passed first, and naturally, 
this determinate, concrete, and synthetic judgment : I think ; 
and then afterwards as you began to exercise the faculty of 
abstraction, you made a division in the primitive synthesis ; 
you considered separately, on the one hand, the thinking, that 
is to say, thought without the subject, without the /, the self, 
that is, possible thinking, — and then, on the other hand, the 
you^ the 7, without the real attribute of thinking, that is to 
say, self by itself, the simple possibility of being : and now 
you are pleased artificially and too late, to reunite, by a pre- 
tended relation of agreement, two terms wdiich originally you 
did not have given you separate and disjoined, but united and 
confused in the synthesis of reality and of hfe. 

Thus the three preceding objections return here with the 
same force, and the theory of Locke can legitimately give you 
neither the knowledge of your own existence, nor the know- 
ledge of any of your faculties, or operations ; for what has 
been shown concerning the judgment : / think, may be 
shown hkewise of the judgment : 7 tvill, I feel, and of all 
the attributes and modes of personal existence. 

Nor is it any more possible for the theory of Locke to give 
external existence. Take for instance the judgment : this 
body exists. The theory decides that you cannot have this 
knowledge but upon the condition of having perceived a rela- 
tion of agreement between two ideas compared with each 
other. What are these two ideas ? Certainly not the idea of 
a body really existing ; for you would then have what you 
are seeking ; nor is it any more the idea of actual existence. 
It is then the idea of a possible body, and the idea of a possi- 
ble existence, two abstractions, which you are to compare. 
But you can deduce from them only this other abstraction : 
there is no logical incompatibihty between the idea of exist- 
ence and the idea of body. — Again, you commence by ab- 
straction, which is contrary to the natural order. — And final- 
ly, you begin by an abstraction which you would never have 
had, if you had not previously obtained the concrete know- 



204 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

ledge, the very knowledge which you wish to derive from the 
comparison of your abstractions. 

What has been shown concerning the existence of body, 
may be equally shown concerning the attributes by which 
body is known to us, solidity, form, color, &c. Take for ex- 
ample, the quality of color, commonly classed among the 
secondary qualities, but which is perhaps more inherent in 
body than is commonly believed. Be this however, as it may, 
whether color be a simple secondary quality or a primary 
quality of matter, let us see on what conditions, by the theory 
of Locke, we acquire the knowledge of it. In order to pass 
this judgment : this body is colored, is it true that we must 
have two ideas, compare them, and perceive their relation ? 
The two ideas would be that of body and that of color. But 
the idea of body must not here be the idea of a colored body, 
for then the single term would imply the other, would render 
the comparison useless, and would take for granted the thing 
in question. It must then be the idea of a body as not being 
colored. The idea of color also must not be the idea of a 
color really existirig ; for a color is real, exists, only in a body, 
arid the very condition of the operation which you wish to 
make, is the separation of color from body. The question 
here, then, is not concerning a real color, having such or such 
a determinate shade, but of color abstracted from all that de- 
termines it, makes it special and real. The question is only 
concerning the abstract and general idea of color. From 
whence it results that the two ideas you have are general and 
abstract ideas, and from abstractions you can derive only ab- 
stractions. — And again, you commence by abstraction : you 
go contrary to the true natural process. — And finally, which 
is the most crushing objection, it is obvious that you could 
never have.gained the general idea of color except in the idea 
of some particular and positive color, which you could not 
have gained except in that of a body figured and colored. It 
is not by the help of the general idea of color, and the general 
idea of b^dy, that you learn that bodies are colored ; but on 
the contrary, it is because you have previously known that 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 205 

such a body was colored, that afterwards separating what was 
united in the primitive synthesis, you were able to consider on 
the one hand, the idea of body, and on the other the idea of 
color, abstracting one from the other : and it is then only that 
you could have instituted a comparison in order to explain 
what you already knew. 

In general : judgments are of two sorts, either, those in 
which we acquire what we were before ignorant of ; or, those 
reflex judgments in which we only explain to ourselves what 
we already knew. The theory of Locke can to a certain ex- 
tent, explain the second, but the first entirely escape it. 

For instance, if we wish now to give account to ourselves 
of the idea of God, whom we already know, we take or we 
can take, on the one hand, the idea of God, and on the other, 
the idea of existence, and inquire if these two ideas agree or 
disagree. But to give account of the knowledge we have al- 
ready acquired, is one thing ; to acquire that knowledge, is 
another thing. Now certainly we did not at first acquire the 
idea of the existence of God, by placing the idea of God on 
one side and the idea of existence on the other, and then seek- 
ing their relation ; for (to spare you superfluous repetitions, 
and not go over the whole circle of the three foregoing objec- 
tions, but to fasten only upon the last of them) that would be 
to take for granted the thing in question. It is very evident 
that when we consider on the one hand the idea of God, and 
on the other the idea of existence, and when we seek the know- 
ledge of the existence of God by comparing the two ideas, w^e 
do nothing but turn ovdr and over what we already had, and 
what too we never could have had, if we had been reduced 
to gain it by the theory of Locke. It is perfectly easy to see 
that it is the same in regard to the attributes of God as in re- 
gard to his existence. Every where, then, and continually, 
we encounter the same objections, the same paralogism. 

The theory of Locke then can give neither God, nor body, 
nor self, nor their attributes : it gives every thing else, I allow, 
if any body wishes the concession. 



206 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

It gives mathematics, you will say. True, I have myself 
said so, and I repeat it. It gives mathematics, geometry, and 
arithmetic, in so far as they are sciences of the relations of 
magnitude and numbers. It gives them however, on one 
condition : that you are to consider these numbers and these 
magnitudes, as abstract, not implying existence. Now with- 
out doubt the science of geometry is an abstract science ; but 
it has its bases in concrete ideas, and real existences. One of 
these bases is the idea of space, which, as you know,* is given 
in this judgment : every body is in a space. This is the 
proposition, the judgment, which gives us space, a judgment 
accompanied with perfect certainty of the reahty of its object. 
We have but one single idea as the starting-point, namely, the 
idea of body ; then the mind by its own power, as soon as the 
idea of body is given it, conceives the idea of space and its ne- 
cessary connexion with body. A body being known, we can- 
not but judge that it is in a space which contains it. From 
this judgment abstract the idea of space, and you have the 
abstract and general idea of space. But it was not anterior 
to the conception of the necessary relation of space to body, 
any more than the relation was anterior to it ; nor was it pos- 
terior to the relation, nor the relation posterior to it. They 
both reciprocally imply each other, and are given us in the 
same judgment as soon as body is known. To lay down first 
the idea of space, and the idea of body, and then to seek by 
comparing them to deduce the relation which connects them, 
is to overthrow the order of intellectual development ; for the 
idea of space alone, supposes already this total judgment, that 
every body is necessarily in space. The judgment therefore 
cannot come fiom the idea, on the contrary the idea comes from 
the judgment. It is not difficult to deduce the judgment 
from the idea, which supposes it, but it would require to be 
explained from whence comes the idea anterior to the judg- 
ment. There is no difficulty in finding a relation between 
body and space, when we know body and space ; but it would 

* See ch. II. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 207 

be difficult for Locke to show how he obtained that idea of 
space, just as we have seen in regard to the idea of body, of 
God, of color, of existence, <fcc. To suppose that the necessa- 
ry idea is given us by the comparison of two ideas, one of 
which is aheady the ideat)f space, is a vicious reasoning in a 
circle, and a ridiculous paralogism. This is the rock on 
which the theory of Locke perpetuall}^ breaks. 

The other idea upon which geometry rests is the idea of 
magnitude Avhich contains the idea of point, the idea of line, 
(fcc. Magnitude, point, line, are ulterior and abstract concep- 
tions, which evidently suppose that the idea of some real body, 
of a solid existing in nature. Now the idea of solidity, hke every 
idea, is given us in a judgment ; and it is necessary that we 
should judge that such a solid exists in order to conceive the 
idea of solidity by itself How, then, do Ave judge that such 
a solid exists ? According to the theory of Locke, there must 
be two ideas, a comparison of those two ideas, and a percep- 
tion of their agreement. And what are the two ideas which 
are to serve as the terms of the judgment : this solid exists ? 
I acknowledge I do not see. Compelled by the hypothesis 
to find them, I can discover no others than the idea of solidity 
and that of existence, which we are to compare in order to 
see if they agree or disagree. The theory requires all this 
scaffolding. But is their any need of destroying if piece by 
piece, in order to overthi'ow it ? Is it not enough to recollect 
that the solid in question, being deprived of existence, since it 
is separated from the idea of existence, is nothing but the ab- 
straction of solidity, and that this abstraction, to w^hich it is 
the object give reality, in order to deduce the existence of the 
solid, could never have been formed without the previous con- 
ception of a real solid, and really existing ? The abstraction, 
line, point, (fee. supposes such or such a real solid, a primitive 
and concrete knowledge, which we can never deduce from ul- 
terior abstractions without falling into a vicious circle, and tak- 
ing away from all geometrical conceptions their natural and 
real basis. 



208 FXEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

Thus, then, the two bases, the two fundamental ideas of 
Geometry, namely the idea of space, and the idea of solidity, 
can never be explained by Locke's theory of knowledge and 
judgment. 

The same is true in regard to the fundamental basis of 
Arithmetic. This basis is evidently unity, not a collective uni- 
ty, for example : four representing two and two^ jive repre- 
senting tiDo and three^ but a unity which is found in all col- 
lective unities, measures them and values them. This unity 
Arithmetic conceives in an abstract manner ; but abstraction 
not being the starting point in the human mind, the ab- 
stract unity must have been given to us at first in some con- 
crete unity, really existing. What is then this concrete, real- 
ly existing unity, the source of the abstract idea of unity ? 
It is not body ; that is indefinitely divisible. It is the'/, the 
self identical, and consequently one under all the variety of 
its acts, its thoughts, its sensations. And how, by the theory of 
Locke, could this knowledge be acquired, the concrete know- 
ledge of the unity of self which is the basis of the abstract 
idea of unity, which is the basis of Arithmetic ? It is neces- 
sary that we should have had, on the one hand, the idea of 
self, not as being one, that is, without reality, (the identity 
and unity of self being implied in its existence from the very 
first moment of memory,) and on the other hand, the idea of 
a unity distinct from self, without subject, and consequently 
without reahty ; and then comparing these, that we should 
have perceived their relation of agreement. Now here all my 
objections come up again, and I will briefly recapitulate 
them : 

1. It is an abstract unity and an abstract 1 or self from 
Avhich you start ; but the abstract unity and the abstract I, 
brought together and compared, will give you nothing but an 
abstract relation, and not a real relation, an abstract unity, and 
not the real and integrant unity of the I. You will not there- 
fore have that concrete idea of unity, which is the necessary 
basis of the abstract idea of unity, which again is the basis of 
Arithmetic, the measure of all numbers ; 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 209 

2. You start from abstraction without having passed through 
the concrete ; which is contrary to the natural order of the 
understanding. 

3. Finally, you are guilty of a paralogism, since you wish 
to obtain the integrant unity of the I, self, from the compari- 
son of two abstractions which involve the supposition of pre- 
cisely what you are seeking. 

The theory of Locke therefore cannot give the basis of Ge- 
ometry and Arithmetic, that is, of the abstract sciences. It 
works well in the field of Geometry and Arithmetic, in as 
far as they are abstract sciences ; but these abstract sciences, 
and all mathematics, depend in the last analysis upon primi- 
tive intellections which imply existence ; and those primitive 
intellections which imply existence cannot be brought any 
where within the theory of Locke. Now we have seen that the 
theory fails equally and on the same grounds, in respect to the 
knowledge of personal existence, that of bodies, and that of 
God. It follows, then, in general, and in the last result, that 
the theory of Locke is valid only in respect to pure abstraction, 
and that it breaks to pieces as soon as it is brought into con- 
tact with any reality to be known of whatever sort. 

The general and unlimited pretension of Locke, therefore, 
that all knowledge, every judgment, is nothing but the per- 
ception of a relation of agreement or disagreement between 
two ideas, this pretension is convicted in every way of error, 
and even of absurdity. 

I am afraid this discussion of Locke's theory of knowledge 
may appear somewhat subtle ; but when one wishes to fol- 
low error in all its windings, and to untie, methodically, by 
analysis and dialectics, the knot of sophistical theories, instead 
of cutting them at once by simple good sense, one is obliged to 
engage in apparent subtleties in following the track of those 
we wish to combat. At this price alone can we seize and con- 
found them. 

I am afraid, too, that this discussion seems to you very pro- 
longed ; and yet it is not finished, for it is not yet penetrated 
to the true root of the theory of Locke. This theory, — that 

19 



210 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

every judgment, all knowledge, is nothing but the perception of 
a relation between two ideas, — supposes and contains an- 
other theory, which is the principle of the former. The ex- 
amination of the one is indispensable to complete that of the 
other, and to determine the judgment we ought to pass defini- 
tively upon it. 



CRITICAL EXAMINATION 

OF 

LOCKE'S ESSAY 

ON 

THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 



CHAPTER NINTH. 



CONTENTS OF CHAPTER NINTH. 

Continuation of the preceding chapter. That the theory of judg- 
ment, as the perception of a relation of agreement or disagreement be- 
tween ideas, supposes that every judgment is founded upon a compari- 
son. Refutation of the theory of comparative judgment. — Of axioms. 
— Of identical propositions.— Of Reason and of Faith. — Of Syllogism. 
Of Enthusiasm.— Of the causes of Error. — Division of the Sciences.—: 
Conclusion of the examination of the Fourth Book of Locke's Essay. 



Vl 



CHAPTER IX. 

I BELIEVE I have sufficiently refuted, by its results, the 
theory of Locke, which makes knowledge or judgment to con- 
sist in a perception of the relation of agreement or disagree- 
ment between ideas. I have demonstrated, I believe, that 
this theory cannot give reality, existences ; that it starts from 
abstraction and results in abstraction. — I now come to exam- 
ine this same theory under another aspect, not any longer in 
its results, but in its principles, in its essential principle, in its 
very condition. 

It is evident that judgment can be the perception of a rela- 
tion of agreement or disagreement of ideas, only on condition 
that a comparison be made between the ideas. Every judg- 
ment of relation is comparative. This is the first and the 
last principle of the theory of Locke ; a principle which the 
infallible analysis of time has successively disengaged and 
placed at the head of the Sensual school. In its germe, at 
least, it is found in the fourth Book of Locke, and there we 
will take it up and examine it. 

We observe then that the theory of comparative judgment, 
like that which it involves and governs, is an unlimited and 
absolute theory. It pretends to explain all our knowledge, all 
our judgments ; so that if the theory is correct, there ought 
not to be a single judgment which is not a comparative judg- 
ment. I might then, I ought even, in this, as in the preceding 
lecture, to go from judgment to judgment, examining if they 
are in fact the fruit of a comparison. But this would Id^d me 
to a great length, and the space I have yet to go over admon- 
ishes me to hasten my progress. I will say then all at once, 
that if there are many judgments which are undeniably com- 
parative, there axe also very many which are not, and that 
here again every judgment which implies reality of existence, 
19* 



214 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

excludes all comparison. Let us begin by accurately recogniz- 
ing the conditions of a comparative judgment, then we will 
test these conditions in regard to judgments which imply ex- 
istence. We shall without doubt get again somewhat into 
our former reasonings ; but it will be requisite, in order to 
pursue and force the theory of Locke into its last hold. 

In order to make a comparison, there must be two terms to 
be compared. That these terms may be abstractions or real- 
ities, is a point not any longer to our purpose to examine ; 
there must always be two terms, or the comparison is impos- 
sible. And it is necessary that these terms should be known 
previously to the comparison which one wishes to make, that 
they should be present to the mind, before the mind can com- 
pare them and judge. All this is very simple ; yet it is suffi- 
cient to overthrow the theory of comparative judgment, in re- 
spect to reality and existence. For there, in fact, I maintain 
that judgment does not depend and cannot depend upon two 
terms. 

Let us take, for example, personal existence, and see what 
are the two terms which are to be compared in order to derive 
from them this judgment : / exist. We will, for this time, 
have nothing to say about the abstraction of self, and the ab- 
straction of existence, which as we have seen can give only 
an abstract judgment. Let us take an hypothesis more fa- 
vorable ; let us come nearer to reality. It is indubitable, that 
if we had never thought, if we had never acted, never felt, 
we should never have known that we exist. Sensation, ac- 
tion, thinking, some phenomenon appearing on the theatre of 
consciousness, is absolutely necessary, in order that the under- 
standing may be able to refer this phenomenon to the subject 
who experiences, to that subject which is ourselves. If, then, 
knowledge is here the fruit of a comparative judgment, the 
two terms of this judgment must be, on the one hand, action, 
sensation, thought, and in general every phenomenon of con- 
sciousness ; and on the other hand, the subject self, or 1. I 
do not see any other possible terms of comparison. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 215 

Now what is the nature of these two terms ? And first 
what is that of the phenomenon of consciousness. The phe- 
nomenon of consciousness is given by an immediate apper- 
ception which attains it and knows it directly ; and it is be- 
cause this knowledge is direct that it is entire and adequate 
to the reality itself. See, then, already a knowledge ; I say a 
knowledge, for it is either a mere dispute about words, or else 
an apperception of consciousness is knowledge or it is nothing. 
Now if there is knowledge, there has been judgment : for ap- 
parently there has been a behef of knowledge, an affirmation 
of the truth of this knowledge, tacit or express ; the affirma- 
tion has taken place solely in the depths of the intelligence, 
or it has been pronounced on the lips in words ; at all events 
it has taken place. And to affirm is to judge. There has 
then been a judgment. Now there is here again only a sin- 
gle term, namely, the sensation, or action, or thought, in a 
word a phenomenon of consciousness; there cannot then 
have been a comparison. According to Locke, then, there 
cannot have been a judgment, if every judgment is compara- 
tive. All our knowledge is resolvable in the last analysis in- 
to affirmations of true or false, into judgments ; and it is contra- 
dictory to say that the judgment which gives the first know- 
ledge we have, the knowledge of consciousness, is a compar- 
ative judgment, since this knowledge has but a single term, 
and there must be two terms for every comparison. This sin- 
gle term, however, is a knowledge, and consequently it sup- 
poses a judgment, but a judgment which does not fall under 
the conditions which Locke assigns for every judgment. 

Thus of the two necessary terms of the comparison from 
which should result the judgment : / exists the first by itself 
alone comprehends a knowledge, a judgment, which is not 
and cannot be comparative. It is just so in regard to the sec- 
ond term. If every phenomenon of consciousness, in so far 
as known, implies already a judgment, it is evident that tlie /, 
the self J which ought to be known also in order to be the second 
term of the comparison, implies, Ukewise, from the very fact 
of its being known, a judgment, and that a judgment which 



216 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

cannot have been comparative. In fact, if the comparison of 
a sensation, a vohtion, or a thought, with the personal self? 
the me, is the foundation of the judgment : 1 exists it fol- 
lows that the phenomenon, of consciousness, and the being, 
me, which are to be the terms of the comparison, ought not 
and cannot, either of them, come from the comparison which 
has not yet taken place. These two terms nevertheless con- 
stitute intellections {connaissances^ knowledges ;) the second 
particularly is an important and fundamental knowledge, 
which evidently impHes a judgment. The theory of compar- 
ative judgment falls to pieces, then, in respect to the second 
term as well as the first ; and the two terms necessary, accord- 
ing to Locke, in order that a judgment may take place, con- 
tain each a judgment, and a judgment without any com- 
parison. 

But there is a second and still greater difficulty. The spe- 
cial characteristic of all knowledge of consciousness, is direct- 
ness and immediateness. There is an immediate and direct 
apperception of a sensation or a vohtion or a thought ; hence 
it is that you know them perfectly, you can observe 
and describe them with certainty, in all their modes and 
shades, in all their characteristics, relative or particular, fugi- 
tive or permanent. Here the judgment has no other principle 
than the faculty of judging, and the consciousness itself. 
There is no principle, general or particular, on which conscious- 
ness is obliged to depend in order to perceive its own objects. 
Undoubtedly an act of attention is necessary, or a phenome- 
non, sensitive, active, or intellectual, may take place and we 
shall not perceive it. An act of attention is the condition of 
all consciousness ; but when this condition is fulfilled, the phe- 
nomena of consciousness are perceived and known directly. 
But it is not with being, essence, as with a phenomenon ; it is 
not with the self, as with the sensation, volition, or thought. 
Suppose, when any phenomenon of consciousness is directly 
perceived, that the understanding is not provided with the 
principle : that every phenomenon supposes a being, every 
quality supposes a subject, the understanding in that case 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 217 

would never be able to form the judgment, that under the 
sensation, thought or volition, there is being, the subject I. 
And bear in mind I do not mean to say that the understand- 
ing must know this principle in its general and abstract form ; 
I have shown in another place that such is not the primitive 
form of principles.* I merely say that the understanding [by 
the ultimate law of its action] must, consciously or uncon- 
sciously, be directed by this principle, in order to affirm and 
judge, or even to suspect (which is still judging) that there is 
some being under the phenomena which consciousness per- 
ceives. This principle, properly speaking, is the principle of 
being ; the principle by which self or personahty is revealed ; 
I say revealed, for self does not fall under the immediate ap- 
perception of consciousness ; the understanding conceives 
and believes it, without the consciousness attaining and seeing 
it. Sensation, volition, thought, are believed because they are 
in some sort seen by the internal intuition [immediate vision 
and perception] of consciousness ; the subject (I, self,) of the 
sensation, volition, thought, is believed without being seen ei- 
ther by the external senses nor by the consciousness ; it is be- 
lieved [by a law of the mind] because it is conceived. The 
phenomenon alone is visible to the consciousness, the being is 
invisible, but the one is a sign of the other. The visible phe 
nomenon reveals the invisible being, on the faith of the prin- 
ciple in question, without which the understanding would nev- 
er come forth from the consciousness, [would never project it- 
self] from the visible, the phenomenal, would never attain the 
the invisible, the substance, the self. Hence the opposite na- 
ture of the knowledge of self, and of the knowledge of the 
phenomena of consciousness : the one entirely manifest, be- 
cause it is direct, the other equally certain, but less manifest, 
because it is indirect. Again, do not forget this distinguishing 
characteristic of these two sorts of knowledge : the one is a 
truth without doubt, but a contingent truth, the truth, namely, 
that at some particular moment there is some particular phe- 

•See Chap. IV. 



218 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

nomenon under the eye of consciousness ; while the other, 
when once its condition is suppUed, is a necessary truth, for 
as soon as an apperception of consciousness is given we can- 
not help judging that the subject of it, the self^ I, exists. 
Thus in regard to the second term, the subject, the me, there 
is not only knowledge and consequently judgment, as is the 
case in regard to the first term ; but there is also a knowledge 
and judgment marked with characteristics altogether pe- 
culiar. 

It is, then, entirely absurd to derive the judgment of per- 
sonal existence from the comparison of two terms, of which 
the second, in order to be known, supposes already a judg- 
ment of a character so remarkable. And it is very evident 
that this judgment is not comparative ; for from what compari- 
son could the self proceed ? Invisible, it cannot be brought 
under the eye of consciousness along with the visible phe- 
nomenon, in order that they may be compared together. It is 
not then from a comparison of the two terms that the certain- 
ty of the existence of the second is derived ; for this second term 
is known all at once, with a certainty which neither increases 
or decreases, which has no degrees. Far from the knowledge of 
self and personal existence coming from a comparison be- 
tween a phenomenon and self, taken as correlative terms, it 
is enough to have one single term, namely, a phenomenon of 
consciousness ; and then, on the instant, and without the sec- 
ond term, self, being previously known, the understanding, 
by its own innate efficacy and by the principle which in such 
a case directs it, conceives and in some sort divines, but di- 
vines infallibly, this second term, as the necessary subject of 
the first. After having thus conceived the second term, the 
understanding can, if it pleases, place it beside the second, 
and compare the subject self, with the phenomena of sensa- 
tion, volition, thought ; but this comparison teaches it only 
what it already knew ; and comparison can do this only be- 
cause the understanding already had the two terms which con- 
tain all the knowledge sought from a comparison, and which 
were acquired anterior to all comparison, by two different 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 219 

judgments, whose only point of resemblance is that they are 
not comparative. 

Thus the judgment of personal existence does not depend 
upon the comparison of two terms, but upon a single term, 
the phenomenon of consciousness. The latter is given im- 
mediately, and with it the understanding conceives the other, 
that is, self and personal existence, hitherto unknown and 
consequently incapable of serving as the second term of a 
comparison. — Now what is true of personal existence, is true 
of all other existences and of the judgments which reveal 
them; these judgments rest originally upon a single da- 
tum. 

How do we know the external world, bodies and their quali- 
ties, according to the theory of Locke ? To begin with the 
qualities of bodies. If we know them, it is only by a judg- 
ment founded upon a comparison, that is, upon two terms pre- 
viously known. Such is the theory : but it is altogether falsi- 
fied by facts. 

I experience a sensation, painful or agreeable, which is per- 
ceived by consciousness : this is all that is directly given me, 
and nothing more ; for we must not take for granted the thing 
in question, the qualities of bodies. It is our business to ar- 
rive at the knowledge of them, not to take for granted that 
they are already known. And you understand in what way 
we come at the knowledge of them, in what way we pass 
from the sensation, the apperception of a phenomenon of con- 
sciousness to the knowledge of the qualities of external ob- 
jects.* It is by virtue of the principle of causality, which, the 
instant any phenomenon begins to appear, leads us irresistibly 
to seek for a cause of it. In our inability to refer to ourselves 
the cause of the involuntary sensation actually under the eye 
of consciousness, we refer it to a cause other than ourselves, 
foreign to us, that is external. We make as many causes as 
there are distinct classes of sensations, and these different 
classes are the powers, the properties, the qualities of bodies. 

» See Chap. IV. 



220 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

It is not therefore by a comparison that we come to know 
the quahties of bodies ; for the sensation alone is given us at 
first, and it is, so to say, upon the basis of this sensation alone, 
that the mind rests the judgment, that it is impossible this sen- 
sation should be self-produced, that it therefore refers it to a 
cause, to an external cause, which is some particular quality of 
bodies. 

The theory of comparison cannot then give the qualities of 
body : still less does it give the substratum^ the subject of 
these qualities. You do not believe that there is merely ex- 
tension, resistance, solidity, hardness, softness, savor, color, (fcc, 
before you ; but you believe that there is something which is 
colored, extended, resistant, solid, hard, (fee. Now it will not 
do to begin by supposing this something at the same time 
with its quahties, so as to have these two terms : the external 
qualities, hardness, softness, (fee, and some thing really solid, 
hard, soft (fee, two terms which you are then to compare in 
order to decide whether they agree or disagree. This is not 
the actual process ; but at first you have solely the qualities 
which are given you by the application of the principle of 
causality to your sensations ; then, and from this datum alone, 
you judge that these qualities cannot but belong to some sub- 
ject of the same nature, and this subject is body.* It is not 
therefore to the comparison of two terms of which the one, 
namely, the subject of sensible qualities, is at first entirely un- 
known, that you owe the knowledge of body. 

It is just so in regard to space. There again, you have but 
a single term, a single datum, namely, bodies ; and upon that 
alone, without having any other term, you judge and cannot 
help judging that bodies are given in space. The knowledge 
of space is the fruit of this judgment which has nothing to do 
with any comparison ; for you knew nothing of space ante- 
rior to the judgment ; but the body being given, you judge 
that space exists, and it is then only, that the idea of space 
comes up, that is to say, the second term.t 

•See Chap. III. t See Chap. III. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 221 

• '■ 

The same analysis applies to time. In order to judge that 

the succession of events is in time, you do not have, on the 
one hand, the idea of succession, and on the other, the idea 
of time ; you have but one term, namely, the succession of 
events, whether external events, or internal events, our sen- 
sations, thoughts, or acts ; and this single term being given, 
you judge, without comparing it with time which is as yet 
profoundly unknown to you, that the succession of events is 
in time : from hence the idea, the knowledge of time. Thus 
this knowledge, so far from being the fruit of a comparison, 
becomes the possible basis of an ulterior comparison, only on 
the condition that it is first given you in a judgment not de- 
pendent upon two terms, but iTpon a single term, namely, the 
succession of events.* 

This is still more evident in regard to the infinite. If we 
know the infinite, we must by the theory of Locke, know it 
through a judgment, and that a comparative judgment. 
Now the two terms of this judgment cannot be two finite 
terms ; for the finite could never give the infinite ; it must be 
the finite and the infinite between which the mind discov- 
ers the relation of agreement or disagreement. But I have, I 
think, demonstrated, and I need here only refer to it,t that it is 
enough for us to have the idea of the finite given us, and we 
are instantly led to the judgment that the infinite exists : or, 
to keep within the hmits of the topics there discussed, t the in- 
finite is an attribute of time and of space, which we necessa- 
rily conceive, by occasion of the finite and contingent attri- 
butes of body and of succession. The mind is so constituted, 
that, on occasion of the idea of the finite, it cannot help con- 
ceiving the idea of the infinite. The finite is previously 
known, it is known directly, by the senses or by conscious- 
ness ; the infinite is invisible and escapes our grasp ; it is on- 
ly conceivable and comprehensible ; it escapes the senses or 
the consciousness, and falls only under the reason ; it is nei- 
ther one of the previous terms of a comparison, nor the fruit 

* See Chap. IIL t See Chap. IIL X See Chap. III. 
20 



222 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

of it ; it is given us in a judgment depending only on a sin- 
gle basis, the idea of the finite. — So much for judgments per- 
taining to existence in general. 

There are also many other judgments, not relating to exist- 
ence, which present the same character. I shall content my- 
self wdth referring to the judgments of good and evil, of the 
beautifid and the opposite. In both cases the judgment de- 
pends upon a single term, and it is the judgment itself which 
constitutes the other term, instead of resulting from the prior 
comparison of two terms. 

According to the theory of Locke, in order to judge 
whether an action is right or wrong, good or bad, it is requisite 
to have, first, the idea of action, and then, the idea of right 
and wrong, and then, to compare the one with the other. 
But in order to compare an action with the idea of right and 
wrong, it is necessary to have that idea, that knowledge, and 
that knowledge supposes a judgment. The question then is : 
whence comes this judgment, and how is it formed. Now 
we have seen,* that in view of particular actions, which to the 
eyes of the senses are destitute of any moral character, the 
understanding is so constituted, that it takes the initiative, and 
attributes to these actions, though indifferent to the sensibility, 
the quality of right or wrong, good or bad. From this primi- 
tive judgment, which undoubtedly has its law, analysis at a 
later period derives the idea of right and wrong, which thence- 
forward serves as the explicit rule of our subsequent judg- 
ments. 

The forms of objects are to the sense, whether external or 
internal, neither beautiful nor ugly. Take away the intelli- 
gence, and there is for us no longer any beauty in external 
forms and things. What in fact, do the senses teach you con- 
cerning forms? Nothing, except that they are round or 
square, colored, &c. What does consciousness teach you? 
Nothing, but that they give you agreeable or disagreeable sen- 
sations. But to be agreeable or disagreeable, square or round, 

» Chap. V. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 223 

green or yellow, ifec.jis one thing ; to be beautiful or ugly, is 
another thing. There is an immense abyss between the two 
ideas. While the senses and the consciousness perceive such 
or such a form, such or such a feeling more or less agreeable ; 
the understanding, on the other hand, conceives the beautiful, 
as it does the good and the true, by a primitive and spontane- 
ous judgment, whose whole force and validity resides in that 
of the understanding and its laws, and of which the sole da- 
tum and condition is an external perception. 

I have then demonstrated, as it seems to me, that the theo- 
ry of Locke, which makes knowledge to rest upon comparison, 
that is, upon two terms previously known, does not explain 
the true process of the mind in the acquisition of a great 
amount and variety of its knowledge. — And in general, I here 
bring forward again the criticism, I have so many times made 
upon Locke, that he always confounds : either, the antece- 
dents of a knowledge with the knowledge itself, as when he 
confounded body Avith space, succession with time, the finite 
with the infinite, effect with cause, qualities and their aggre- 
gate with substance ; or, which is a mistake not less grave, 
the consequences of a knowledge with the knowledge itself. 
Here, for example, the comparative judgments which pertain 
to existence, (and even in other cases) are ulterior judgments, 
requiring two terms which again require a previous foundation 
in a single term, and consequently not comparative. Locke 
then, you perceive, here confounds the class of ulterior, com- 
parative judgments, with that of the primitive, and not com- 
parative judgments, which he entirely neglects; and yet it is 
precisely the latter, which precede, ground, and give validi- 
ty to the former. Comparative judgments presuppose judg- 
ments not comparative. Comparative judgments are abstract, 
and suppose real judgments ; they teach us scarcely any thing 
but what the others had already taught ; they mark explicit- 
ly what the others had taught implicitly, but yet decisively ; 
they are arbitrary, at least in their form ; while the others are 
universal and necessary ; they need the aid of language ; the 
others are, strictly speaking, above language, above all conven- 



224 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

tional signs, and suppose necessarily nothing but the under- 
standing and its laws. Comparative judgments pertain to re- 
flection and to artificial logic ; prmiitive and not comparative 
judgments constitute the natural and spontaneous logic of the 
human race. To confound these two classes of judgments, is 
to vitiate at once all psychology and all logic : and yet such 
a confusion fills a large portion of the fourth book of the Es- 
say on the Understanding. 

I shall now briefly take up the different fundamental points 
to which this book is devoted, and you will see that, for the 
most part, we shall find continually this same error, the results 
of judgments confounded with the judgments themselves, ap- 
plies directly to the seventh chapter, concerning Axioms. 

If I made myself fully understood in the last lecture, it 
must be very evident that axioms, principles, general truths, 
are the product and expression of propositions, which are the 
expression of primitive judgments. There are no axioms 
in the primary developement of the understanding. There 
is an understanding which, when certain external or internal 
conditions are fulfilled, by virtue of its own laws, passes cer- 
tain judgments, sometimes local and contingent, sometimes 
universal and necessary. These latter judgments, when we 
operate- upon them by analysis and language, resolve them- 
selves, Hke the others, into propositions ; and these propositions 
being universal and necessary, lil<:e the judgments which they 
express, are what we call axioms. But it is clear that the 
form of the primitive judgments is one thing, and the form of 
these same judgments when reduced to propositions and ax- 
ioms, is another thing. At first concrete, particular, and deter- 
minate, whatever be the universality and necessity naturally 
and potentially in them, it is language and analysis that raise 
them to the abstract form which is the actual form of axioms. 
Thus, in the primitive action of the mind, a particular phe- 
nomenon being under the eye of consciousness, you instinc- 
tively referred it to a subject, that is yourself. But at present 
on the contrary, instead of abandoning the mind to its laws, 
you recall them to it, you submit it to the axiom : every phe- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 225 

nomenon implies a subject to which it is referred ; and so of 
the other axioms : all succession supposes time, every body- 
supposes space, the finite supposes the infinite, &c. Do not 
fail to notice that these axioms have no force but what they 
borrow from the primitive judgments from which they are de 
duced. It is to primitive judgments we owe all real and fun-" 
damental knowledge, the knowledge of ourselves, of the world, 
of time, of space, and even, as I have shown in the last lec- 
ture, the knowledge of magnitude and of unity. But in re- 
spect to axioms it is not so. You acquire no real knowledge, 
for instance, by the application of the axiom : every effect 
supposes a cause. It is the philosopher, and not the man, 
that makes use of this axiom. The savage, the peasant, the 
uneducated, know nothing of it ; but they all, as well as the 
philosopher, are provided with an understanding which makes 
them pass certain judgments, concrete, positive and determin- 
ate, and at the same time, necessary, and therefore universal, 
the result of which is, the knowledge of such or such a par- 
ticular cause. The judgments and their laws, I repeat, are 
what produce all knowledge ; axioms are only the analytic 
expression of those judgments and laws, the ultimate ele- 
ments of which they express under their most abstract form. 
Locke, however, instead of stopping within these limits, pre- 
tends that axioms are of no use, that they are not the princi- 
ples of the sciences ; and he demands somewhat contemptu- 
ously, to be shown a science founded upon axioms : '' it has 
been my ill luck" says he (§ 11,) "never to meet with any 
such sciences ; much less any one built upon these two max- 
ims, what is, is ; and, it is impossible for the same thing 
to be, and not to be. And I would be glad to be shown where 
any such science, erected upon these or any other general ax- 
ioms, is to be found ; and should be obliged to any one who 
would lay before me the frame and system of any science so 
built on these or any such hke maxims, that could not be 
shown to stand as firm without any consideration of them." 
Now, it is indeed true beyond all doubt, that axioms, in their 
actual form of axioms, never engendered any science ; but it 

20* 



226 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY 

is no less true that, in their source and under their primitive 
form, that is, in the laws of the natural judgments from which 
they are deduced, they have served as the basis of all the sci- 
ences. Moreover, although in their actual form, they never 
have made and cannot make any science, and although they 
give no particular truth, yet it must be recognized that with- 
out them, no science, no truth general or particular, subsists. 
Endeavor to deny the axirans ; to suppose, for instance, that 
there can be a quality without a subject, a body without space, 
succession without time, (fee. ; set yourselves to making ab- 
stractions of the axioms with which Locke has chosen to 
amuse himself, namely, what is, is ; and it is impossible for 
the same thing to he, and not to be; that is to say, make an 
abstraction of the idea of being, and of identity ; and there is 
an end of all science ; it can neither advance nor sustain it- 
self. 

Locke pretends also (ch. VII, § 9,) that the axioms are not 
the truths which we know first. True, again, without doubt, 
the axioms, under their actual form, are not primitive intellec- 
tions ; but, under their real form, as laws governing the exer- 
cise of the understanding, and implied in our judgments, they 
are so truly primitive, that without them no knowledge could 
be acquired. They are not indeed primitive as being the first 
truths which we know, but as those without which no others 
would be known. Here returns again the perpetual confu- 
sion in Locke of the historical and logical order of human 
knowledge. In the chronological order, we do not begin by 
knowing the axiom, the laws of our understanding ; but, lo- 
gically, without the axioms, no truth is admissible ; \vithout 
the operation, unnoticed, indeed, but real operation, of the laws 
of thought, no thought, no judgment is either legitimate or 
possible. 

At last, Locke combats the axioms by a celebrated argu- 
ment, since his time frequently renewed, namely, that the ax- 
ioms are nothing but frivolous propositions, because they are 
identical propositions (ch. VII, § II.) It is Locke, I believe, 
who introduced the expression, identical proposition, into the 




ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 227 

language of philosophy. It signifies a judgment, a proposi- 
tion, wherein an idea is afiirmed of itself, wherein we affirm 
of a thing what was already known concerning it. Else- 
where, (oh. VIII, of trifling Propositions : § 3, of identi- 
cal Propositions^) Locke shows that identical propositions are 
merely verbal propositions. '-Let any one repeat, as ofte 

he pleases, that the will is the will; a law is 

and obligation is ohligation : right is right ; 

wrong what is this more than trifling with 

" It is, says he, but like a monkey shifting his oyster 
hand to the other ; and had he words, might, no doubt 
said : oyster in right hand is subject, and oyster in left hand 
is predicate ; and so might have made a self-evident proposi- 
tion of oyster, that is : oyster is oyster.'^ Hence the con- 
demnation of the axiom : that which is, is, (fcc. But it is not 
exact, it is not fair, to concentrate all the axioms, all the 
principles, the primitive and necessary truths into the axiom : 
what is, is ; the sa7ne is the same : and to the trifling and 
ridiculous examples of Locke, I oppose, as examples, the fol- 
lowing axioms, which have already been brought for\\^ard : 
the quality supposes a subject ; succession supposes time ; body 
supposes space ; the finite supposes the infinite ; variety sup- 
poses unity; phenomenon supposes substance and being, — 
in short all the necessary truths which our foregoing discus- 
sion must have fixed in your minds. The question is, wheth- 
er these are identical propositions. In order to show that they 
are, Locke must maintain that time is reducible to succession, 
or succession to time ; space to body, or body to space ; the 
infinite to the finite, or the finite to the infinite ; phenomenon 
to being, or being to phenomenon, <fec. Locke does, and by 
his system should thus maintain. But it ought by this time 
to be sufficiently evident to you, that tliis position, and the 
system on which it rests, are ahke destitute of truth. 

This proscription of axioms as identical, Locke extends to 
propositions which are not axioms ; and in general, he per- 
ceives very many more identical propositions than there are. 
For instance, gold is heavy, gold is fiisible, are to Locke 



228 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

(ch, VIII, § 5 and 13.) identical. Nothing is farther from the 
truth, however; we do not m these propositions affinn the 
same thing of the same. A proposition is called identical, 
whenever the attribute is contained in the subject in such sort 
that the subject cannot be conceived as not containing it. 
Thus, w^hen you say that body is sohd, I say that you make 
an identical proposition, because I defy you to have the idea 
of body without having that of sohdity. The idea of body is 
perhaps more extended than that of solidity, but it is primari- 
ly and essentially the same. The idea of sohdity being, then, 
for you the essential quality of body, to say that body is solid, 
is to say nothing else than that body is body. But when you 
say that gold is fusible, you affirm, of gold, a quahty which 
might, or might not belong to it. It involves a contradiction 
to say a body is not solid ; but it mvolves no contradiction to 
suppose that gold might not be fusible. Gold might for a long 
time be known solely as a sohd, as hard, yellow, &c. ; if the 
experiment had not been made, it would not be known that 
it is fusible. When then you affirm, of gold, that it is fusi- 
ble, you recognize in it a quahty which you may not have 
known before ; certainly you do not affirm the same of the 
same, at least when you first make the assertion. At the 
present day, it is true, in the latoatory of modern chemistry, 
where the fusibihty of gold is a quahty universally recogniz- 
ed, to say that gold is fusible, is to repeat what is already 
known ; it is to affirm of the word gold what is already com- 
prized in the received signification. But, originally, the first 
one who affirmed that gold is fusible, far from making a tau- 
tology, expressed the result of discovery, and a discovery not 
without difficulty and importance. I may ask whether Locke 
in his time would have mocked at the proposition, that the 
atmosphere has weight, as an identical and frivolous proposi- 
tion ? Certainly not ; and why ? Because at that time, 
weight w£is a quality of the air which had hardly come to be 
demonstrated by the experunents of Pascal, and the still more 
complete experiments of ToriceUi. The only difference, how- 
ever, is, that those who established the iusibihty and weight 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 229 

of gold were earlier by some thousands of years ; but at the 
bottom, if the gravity of the atmosphere is not an iden- 
tical proposition, neither, on the same ground, is the weight or 
the fusibility of gold ; since the first who affirmed these qual- 
ities did not affirm in one term what had already been affirm- 
ed in the other. 

As to the rest, it is worth while to note the fate of identical 
truths. Locke saw a great many more than there are, and 
ridiculed them. The school of Locke has perceived still more 
of them ; but far from condemning them on that score, it 
treats them with respect; it even goes so far as to lay it down as 
the condition of every true proposition that it must be iden- 
tical. Thus, by a strange progress, what Locke had branded 
with ridicule, as frivolous, became in the hands of his succes- 
sors a mark of legitimacy and truth. The identity ridi- 
culed by Locke was nothing but a fictitious identity ; and 
now, we see this pretended identity, so much scouted by him, 
and so unreasonably, because it is not real, celebrated in his 
school, with still less reason, as the triumph of truth and the 
last conquest of science and analysis. Now, if all true pro- 
positions are identical, as every identical proposition, whether 
according to Locke, it be frivolous, or according to his disciples 
not, is, according to both, only a verbal proposition, it follows 
that the knowledge of all possible truths is only a verbal know- 
ledge ; and thus, when we think that we have learned sci- 
ence or systems of truth, we have really done nothing but 
translate one word into another ; we only learn words, and a 
language. Hence the famous principle, that all science is only 
a language, dictionaries well or ill formed. Hence the re- 
duction of the human mind to grammar. 

I pass now to other theories which remain to be examined 
in the fourth book of the Essay. 

Ch. XVIL Of Reason — 1 have scarcely any thing but 
praise to bestow upon this chapter. Locke there shows, (§4,) 
what indeed was not then shown for the first time, but what 
at that period it was still necessary and useful to demonstrate, 
that the syllogism is not the principal instrument of reasoning. 



230 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

You have indeed seen* that the evidence of demonstration is 
not the only evidence : that there is, besides, the evidence of 
intuition, upon which Locke himself allows the evidence of 
demonstration to be founded, and, also, a third kind of evi- 
dence which Locke misconceived, namely, the evidence of in- 
duction. Now, the syllogism is of no service in regard to the 
evidence of induction ; for the syllogism proceeds from the 
general to the particular, while induction proceeds from the 
particular to the general. The syllogism, too, serves no pur- 
pose in regard to intuition, which is knowledge direct and 
without an intermediate. It is of no use, then, but in respect 
to demonstrative evidence ; it is therefore neither the sole, nor 
the principal instrument of reasonmg. But Locke does not 
stop here ; he goes even so far (§ 6,) as to pretend that the syl- 
logism adds nothing to our knowledge, and that it is only a 
means of disputing. I here recognize the language of a 
man who wrote near the end of the seventeenth century, and 
who was still in the movement of reaction against the Scho- 
lastic philosophy. The Scholastic philosophy admitted, as 
Locke did, the evidence of intuition and demonstration ; it 
forgot, in theory, like Locke, only the evidence of induction. 
But, in point of fact, being forbidden the examination of its 
principles, it scarcely employed any other evidence than the 
demonstrative ; and consequently it used the syllogism as its 
principal or exclusive instrument. A reaction therefore against 
the Scholastic philosophy was necessary. But every reaction 
always goes too far. Hence the proscription of the syllogism 
was a blind and unjust proscription ; for deductive knowledge 
is still real knowledge. There are two things in the syllo- 
gism, the form and the substance. The substance is the real 
and special process by which the human mind goes from the 
general to the particular ; and certainly it is a process, of 
which account should be made, in a faithful and complete de- 
scription of the human mind. As to the form, so well de- 
scribed and so well developed by Aristotle, it is undoubtedly 

»See ch.VIII. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 231 

liable to abuse ; but still it has a very useful office. In gen- 
eral, all reasoning which cannot be put into this form, is vague 
reasoning, without strictness and without precision ; while ev- 
ery true demonstration readily submits itself to this form. 
The syllogistic process, common to the ignorant as well as the 
learned, and inherent in the human mind itself, is an origin- 
al principle, fruitful in knowledge and truths, since it is that 
which gives us all consequences. The syllogistic form, it is 
true, is often nothing but a test applied to a deduction already 
drawn, but as a test, it is not without great value. It is not 
right to say that the syllogism lends itself as readily to the de- 
monstration of the false as of the true ; for let any error what- 
ever be taken in the order of deduction, and I defy it to be 
put into a regular syllogism. The only remark which holds 
true, is that the human mind is not to be found entire in the 
syllogism, neither in the process which constitutes it, nor in 
the form which expresses it ; because reason is not entire in 
reasoning, nor is all evidence reducible to that of demonstra- 
tion. On the contrary, as Locke himself very clearly saw, 
the evidence of demonstration would not exist, if there were 
not previously the evidence of intuition. So much for the 
limitations of Locke's criticism of the syllogism. 

This chapter contains several passages (at § 7, and seq.) on 
the necessity of seeking for discoveries by some other instru- 
ment than the syllogism. But, unfortunately with more of 
promise than performance, these passages give no definite in- 
dication. In order to find this new instrument, Locke had 
nothing to do but to open Bacon's Novum Orga)ium, and 
De Augmentis ; and he would have there found perfectly de- 
scribed, both intuition sensible and rational, and induction. 
But we are compelled to suspect that he had very little ac- 
quaintance with Bacon, when we see him darkly groping af- 
ter, and unable to find, the new route opened a half century 
before, and already rendered so clear by his immortal coun- 
tryman. 

One of the best chapters of Locke is that on Faith and 
Reasouj (ch. XVIII.) You there recognize one of the inter- 



232 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

preters of the great moral and religious revolution, which at that 
period had taken place. Locke assigns the exact province of 
reason and of faith. He indicates their relative office and their 
distinct limits. He had already said, (ch. XYH, § 24,) that 
faith in general is so little contrary to reason, that it is noth- 
ing else than the assent of reason to itself. " I think it may 
not be amiss to take notice, that however faith be opposed to 
reason, faith is nothing but a firm assent of the mind ; which 
if it be regulated, as is our duty, cannot be afforded to any 
thing but upon good reason, and so cannot be opposite to it." 

And when he comes to treat of positive faith, that is, of rev- 
elation, in spite of his respect, or rather by reason of his pro- 
found respect for Christianity, even while admitting (ch. XYHI, 
§ 7,) the celebrated distinction, and perhaps more specious than 
profound, between things according to reason, contrary to rea- 
son, and above reason, he declares that no revelation, wheth- 
er immediate or traditional, can be admitted contrary to rea- 
son, and that the measure of the admissibility of every reve- 
lation, is in the proportion of its comprehensibility, that is its 
relation more or less intimate to the reason. I will adduce 
the words of Locke, § 5 : 

" But yet nothing, I think, can, under that title, [of a rev- 
elation,] shake or overrule plain knowledge ; or rationally 
prevail with any man to admit it for true, in a direct contra- 
diction to the clear evidence of his own understanding. For 
since no evidence of our faculties, by which we receive such 
revelations^ can exceed, if equal, the certainty of our intui- 
tive knowledge, we can never receive for a truth any thing 
that is directly contrary to our clear and distinct knowledge ; 
V. g. the ideas of one body, and one place, do so clearly agree, 
and the mind has so evident a perception of their agreement, 
that we can never assent to a proposition, that affirms the same 
body to be in two distant places at once, however it should 
pretend to the authority of a divine revelation : since the ev- 
idence, first, that we deceive not ourselves in ascribing it to 
God ; secondly/, that we understand it right ; can never be 
so great as the evidence of our own intuitive knowledge, 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 233 

whereby we discern it impossible for the same body to be in 
two places at once. And therefore no proposition can be re- 
ceived for divine revelation, or obtain the assent due to all 
such, if it be contradictory to our clear intuitive knowledge. 
Because this would be to subvert the principles and founda- 
tions of all knowledge, evidence and assent whatsoever ; and 
there would be left no difference between truth and falsehood, 
no measures of credible and incredible in the world, if doubt- 
ful propositions shall take place before self-evident ; and what 
we certainly know, give way to what we may possibly be 
mistaken in. In propositions, therefore, contrary to the clear 
perception of the agreement or disagreement of any of our 
ideas, it will be in vain to urge them as matters of faithP* 

I am not equally satisfied Avith the next chapter (the XIX) 
On Enthusiasm. Locke, it seems to me, has not profoundly 
apprehended his subject ; he has made a satire rather than 
given an impartial description of enthusiasm. 

What in fact is enthusiasm according to Locke? It is : L 
the pretension of referring to a positive, privileged, and per- 
sonal revelation, to a divine illumination made in our particu- 
lar favor, our own pecuhar sentiments, which often are noth- 
ing but extravagances ; 2. the pretension, still more absurd, 
of imposing upon others these imaginations, as superior or- 
ders clothed with divine authority. (See § 5 and 6) These 
are indeed the folhes of enthusiasm. But is enthusiasm noth- 
ing but this ? I do not believe it. 

Locke has elsewhere perfectly seen that the evidence of de- 
monstration is founded upon that of intuition. He has even 
said that of these two kinds of evidence, the evidence of in- 
tuition is not only anterior to the other, but is superior to it, 
and is the highest degree of knowledge, (ch. XYII, § 14.) It 
is even curious to see Locke express himself on this point with 
as much strength as could a philosopher of a totally opposite 
school. " Intuitive knowledge is certain, beyond all doubt, 
and needs no probation, nor can have any, this being the 

♦ Appendix, Note DD. 
21 



234 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

highest of all human certainty. In this consists the evidence 
of all those maxims, which nobody has any doubt about, but 
every man (does not, as is said, only assent to, but) knows to 
be true as soon as ever they are proposed to his understand- 
ing. In the discovery of, and assent to these truths, there is 
no use of the discursive faculty, no need of reasoning, but 
they are known by a superior and higher degree of evidence ; 
and such, if I may guess at things unknown, I am apt to 
think that angels have now, and the spirits of just men made 
perfect shall have in a future state, of thousands of things, 
which now either wholly escape our apprehensions, or which, 
our short-sighted reason having got some faint glimpse of, we, 
in the dark, grope after." I accept this statement, let it be 
consistent or not with the general system of Locke. I hold 
likewise that the highest degree of knowledge is intuitive 
knowledge. This knowledge, in many cases, for example, 
in regard to time, space, personal identity, the infinite, all sub- 
stantial existences, as also, the good and the beautiful, has, 
you know, this peculiarity, that it is not grounded upon the 
senses nor consciousness but upon the reason, which, without 
the intermediation of any reasoning, attains its objects and 
conceives them with certainty. Now, it is an attribute inhe- 
rent in the reason to believe in itself, and from hence comes 
faith. If, then, intuitive reason is above inductive and de- 
monstrative reason, the faith of reason in itself is, in intuition, 
purer and more elevated than in induction and demonstration. 
Recollect likewise that the truths intuitively discovered by rea- 
son are not arbitrary, but necessary ; that they are not rela- 
tive, but absolute. The authority of reason is absolute ; it is 
then a characteristic of the faith attached to reason to be, like 
that, absolute. These are the admirable characteristics of rea- 
son, and of the faith of reason in itself. 

This is not all. When we come to interrogate rea- 
son about itself, to inquire into its own principle, and the 
source of that absolute authority which characterizes it, we 
are forced to recognize that this reason is not ours, not consti- 
tuted by us. It is not in our power ; it is not in the power of 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 235 

our will to cause the reason to give us such or such a truth, or 
not to give us them. Independent of our will, reason inter- 
venes, and, when certain conditions are fulfilled, gives us, I 
might say, imposes upon us, these truths. The reason makes 
its appearance in us, though it is not ourselves, and in no way 
can it be confounded with our personality. Reason is im- 
personal. Whence then comes this wonderful guest within 
us, and what is the principle of this reason which enlightens 
us, without belonging to us ? This principle is God, the first 
and the last principle of every thing. Now, when the faith 
of reason in itself is attached to its principle, when it knows 
that it comes from God, it increases not merely in degree, but 
in nature, by as much, so to say, as the eternal substance is su- 
perior to the finite substance in which it makes its appearance. 
Thus comes a redoubled faith in the truths revealed by the 
supreme reason in the shades of time and in the limitation of 
our weakness.* 

See, then, reason become, to its own e)?^es divine, in its prin- 
ciple. Now this mode or state of reason which hears itself 
and takes itself as the echo of God on the earth, with the par- 
ticular and extraordinary characteristics connected with it, is 
what is called Enthusiasm. The word sufficiently explains 
the thing : enthusiasm [©w$ « '«a«»] is the spirit of God with- 
in us ; it is immediate intuition, opposed to induction and de- 
monstration ; it is the primitive spontaneity opposed to the ul- 
terior developement of reflection ; it is the apperception of the 
highest truths by reason in its greatest independence both of 
the senses and of our personality. Enthusiasm in its highest 
degree, in its crisis, so to say, belongs only to particular individu- 
als, and to them only in particular circumstances ; but in its 
lowest degree, enthusiasm is as much a fact as any thing else, 
a fact sufficiently common, pertaining not to any particular the- 
ory or individual, or epoch, but to human nature, in all men, 
in all conditions, and almost at every hour. It is enthusiasm 
which produces spontaneous convictions and resolutions, in lit- 

* See Appendix, Note EE. 



236 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

tie as in great, in the hero and in the feeblest woman. En- 
thusiasm is the poetic spirit in any thing" ; and the poetic spirit, 
thanks to God, does not belong exclusively to poets. It has 
been given to all men in some degree more or less pure, more 
or less elevated ; it appears above all in particular men, and 
in particular moments of the life of such men, who are the 
poets by eminence. It is enthusiasm likewise which makes 
religions, for every religion supposes two things : 1. that the 
truths which it proclaims are absolute truths ; 2. that it pro- 
claims them in the name of God himself who reveals them 
to it. 

Thus far all is well : w^e are still wathin the conditions of hu- 
manity and of reason, for it is reason which is the foundation 
of faith and of enthusiasm, of heroism, of poetry and of re- 
ligion. And when the poet, when the priest repel reason in 
the name and behalf of enthusiasm and faith, they do nothing 
else, whether they are aware or ignorant of it, (and it is the 
affair neither of poets, nor of priests, to know what they do,) 
they do nothing else, I say, than put one mode of reason 
above other modes of the same reason ; for, if immediate in- 
tuition is above ratiocination, yet it none the less pertains to 
reason.- Enthusiasm is then a rational fact, which has its 
place in the order of natural facts, and in the history of the 
human mind ; only this fact is extremely delicate, and enthu- 
siasm may easily turn into folly. We are here upon the 
doubtful border between reason and extravagance. See the 
universal principle, the necessary and legitimate principle of 
religious philosophy, of religions and mysticism, a prmciple 
which must not be confounded with the mistakes and delu- 
sions by which it may be corrupted. Thus disengaged and 
enlightened by analysis, philosophy ought to recognize it, if 
she wishes to recognize all the essential facts, all the elements 
of reason and of humanity. 

See now where error begins. Enthusiasm is, I repeat, that 
spontaneous intuition of truth by reason, as independent as 
possible of the personality and of the senses, of induction and 
of demonstration, a state which has been found true, legiti- 



I 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 237 

mate, and founded upon the nature of the human reason. But 
sometimes it happens that the senses and the personality which 
inspiration ought to surmount and reduce to silence, introduce 
themselves into the inspiration itself, and mingle with it mate- 
rial, arbitrary, false and ridiculous details. It happens hke- 
wise, that those who share in a superior degree, this revelation 
of God made in some measure to all men, imagine it to be 
peculiar to themselves, and denied to others, not only in this 
degree, but totally and absolutely. They set up in their minds, 
a sort of privilege of inspiration ; and as in inspiration we 
feel the duty of submitting ourselves to the truths which 
inspiration reveals, and the sacred mission of proclaiming and 
spreading them, we frequently go to the extent of supposing 
that it is also a duty for us, while submitting ourselves to these 
truths, to subject others likewise to them, and to impose them 
upon others, not in virtue of our own power and personal illu- 
mination, but in virtue of the superior power from which all 
inspiration emanates. 

On our knees ourselves, before the principle of our enthusi- 
asm and our faith, we wish also to make others bend their 
knees to the same principle, to make them adore and seive 
what we adore and serve.* From hence religious authority ; 
and then very soon tyranny. Men begin by believing in spe- 
cial revelations made in their favor, they end by regarding 
themselves as delegates of God and providence, commissioned 
not only to enlighten and save teachable souls, but to enhght- 
en and save, spite of themselves, those who resist the truth 
and God. The folly of enthusiasm conducts very rapidly to 
the tyranny of enthusiasm. 

But the folly and the tyranny, which, I grant, sometimes 
spring from the principle of inspiration, because we are feeble, 
and consequently exclusive, and therefore intolerant, are essen- 
tially distinct from the principle. We can, and we ought to 
acquit, and even to put honor upon the principle, while at the 
same time we condemn the errors connected with it. But in- 

See Appendix, Note FF. 
21* 



238 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

stead of this, Locke confounds the abuse of the principlej that 
is to say, extravagant enthusiasm, peculiar to some men, with 
the true enthusiasm which has been given in some degree to 
all men. In enthusiasm throughout he sees nothing but a dis- 
ordered movement of the imagination, and every where he sets 
himself to putting up barriers to all passing beyond the circle 
of authentic and properly interpreted passages of the holy scrip- 
tures. I approve his prudence ; I allow it at all times, and I 
think still more of it, when I recollect the extravagances of 
sectarian enthusiasm about the times of Locke, and the sad 
spectacle presented to his eyes. But prudence should never 
degenerate into injustice. What would the Sensual school 
say, if, from prudence likewise idealism should wish to suppress 
the senses on account of the excesses to which the senses may 
and often do conduct, or reasoning, on account of the sophisms 
which it engenders 7 We must be wise within bounds, so- 
hrie sapere ; we must be wise within the limitations and con- 
ditions of humanity and nature ; and Locke was wrong in 
regarding enthusiasm so much less in itself, than in its conse- 
quences, and in its foolish and pernicious consequences. 

Next follows ch. XX. On the causes of Error. Near- 
ly all those signalized by Locke had been recognized before 
him. They are : 1. want of proofs ; 2. want of ability to 
use them ; 3. want of will to use them : 4. wrong measures 
of probability, which are reduced by Locke to the four follow- 
ing : 1. propositions that are not in themselves certain and evi- 
dent, but doubtfid and false, taken up for principles ; 2. receiv- 
ed hypotheses ; 3. predominant passions or inclinations ; 4. au- 
thority. This whole chapter may be read with profit ; but 
I shall dwell only upon the last section (the 18th,) entitled : 
Men not in so many errors as is imagined. I avow that I 
was singularly pleased, from the optimism which you know I 
cherish, with the title of this paragiaph. I hoped to find in 
the good and wise Locke these two propositions which are so 
dear to me ; first, that men do not so much believe in any er- 
ror as in the truth, and secondly, that there is no error in which 
there is not some share, however small, of truth. So far fi-om 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 239 

this, however, I perceive that Locke in respect to error, makes 
an apology for human nature that is but httle creditable to it. 
If men are not the fools which they appear to be, it is, accord- 
ing" to Locke, because they really have no faith at all in the 
foolish opinions with which they have the aii- of being so per- 
suaded, but follow them merely from habit, excitement or in- 
terest. " They are resolved to stick to a party, that education 
or interest has engaged them in ; and there, like the common 
soldiers of an army, show their courage and warmth as their 
leaders direct, without ever so much as examining or know- 
ing the cause they contend for. It is enough for a man 

to obey his leaders, to have his hand and his tongue ready for 
the support of the common cause, and thereby approve him- 
self to those who can give him credit, preferment, or protection 
in that society." Let it be so, in regard to some men ; but is 
this true of all 1 Here, again, Locke suffered himself to be 
disturbed by the spectacles presented by his own times, when, 
amidst so many follies, there might very likely be some dis- 
sembled ; but all were not so, and could not be. I allow that 
in times of agitation and revolution, ambition frequently takes 
the standard of extravagancies which it despises, in order to 
lead the crowd ; but it is not right to calumniate ambition. 
Every thing is entire in humanity ; and a man may be at the 
same time both very ambitious and very sincere. Cromwell, for 
instance, was, in my opinion, a sincere puritan even to fanat- 
icism ; and likewise greedy of power even to hypocrisy ; and 
still his hypocrisy is more obscure and more doubtful than his 
fanaticism. Probably it only led him to exaggerate the opinions 
which were really in his heart, and to caress and excite the pas- 
sions, which he himself shared. His tyranny is not a proof that 
his repubhcan ardor was assumed. There are times when 
the popular cause needs a master to govern and represent it, 
and when the good sense, which perceives this necessity, or 
the genius, which feels its own strength, easily impels an ar- 
dent mind to arbitrary power, without implying excessive ego- 
tism. Pericles, Caesar, Cromwell, and another still, might 



240 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

very sincerely have loved equality in the midst of a dictator- 
ship. There is perhaps now in the world a man, whose am- 
bition is the last hope of the comitry which he has twice sa- 
ved, anil which he alone can save again by applying a firm 
hand. But let us leave great men, who, to expiate their su- 
periority and their glory, are often condemned not be compre- 
hended ; let us leave the chiefs, and come to the multitude. 
Here the explanation of Locke fails. We can, indeed, ex- 
plain to a certain extent the foolish opinions of some men by 
the interest they have in simulating those of the mass upon 
whom they wish to support themselves ; but it is implied that 
the mass of men hold false opinions by imposture ; for appa- 
rently they would not be willing to deceive themselves. But 
no ; this is not the way to justify the errors of humanity. 
Their true apology is that which I have so many times given, 
and which I shall never cease to repeat : that there is no to- 
tal error in an intelligent and rational being. Men, indi- 
viduals and nations, men of genius and ordinary men, un- 
questionably give in to many errors, and attach themselves to 
them ; but not to that which makes them errors, but to the part 
of truth which is in them. Examine to the bottom all the 
celebrated errors, poUtical, religious, philosophical ; there is 
not one which has not a considerable portion of truth in it, 
and it is to this it owes its credence in the minds of great men, 
who introduced it upon the scene of the world, and in the 
minds of the multitude, who have followed the great men. 
It is the truth joined to the error, which gives to the error all its 
force, which gives it birth, sustains it, spreads it, explains and 
excuses it. Errors gain success and footing in the world, no 
otherwise than by carrying along with them, and offering, as 
it were, for their ransom, so much of truth, as, piercing through 
the mists which envelope it, enlighten and carry forward the 
human race. I approve entirely, then, the title of Locke's 
paragraph ; but I reject his developement of it.* 

The twenty first Chapter contains a division of the scien- 
ces into physics, practics, and logic or grammar. By physics, 

* See Appendix, Note GG. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 241 

Locke understands the nature of things, not only of bodies, 
but of spirits, God and the soul ; it is the ancient physics and 
the modern ontology. I have nothing to say of this division 
but that it is very ancient,* obviously arbitrary and superficial, 
and very much inferior to the celebrated division of Bacon, 
reproduced by D'Alembert. I find it indeed very diflicult to 
believe that the author of this division could have known this 
division of Bacon. I see rather, in this, as also in the third 
book concerning signs and language, marks of the reading and 
recollection of Hobbes. 

We have at length come to the end of this long analysis of 
the fourth hook of the Essay of Locke. I have followed, 
step by step, all the important propositions contained iia it, as 
I have done in regard to the preceding books. I should not, 
however, give a complete view of the Essay on the Human 
Understanding, if I should stop without still exhibiting some 
theories of great importance, which are not thrown in episod- 
ically in the work of Locke, but pertain closely to the general 
spirit of his system, and have acquired in the Sensual school 
an immense authority. It has appeared to me proper to re- 
serve these theories for a special examination. 

* See Appendix, Note HH. 



CRITICAL EXAMINATION 

OF 

LOCKE'S ESSAY 

ON 

THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 



CHAPTER TENTH 



CONTENTS OF CHAPTER TENTH. 

Examination of three important Theories found in the Essay on the 
Human Undei^tanding : 1. Theory of Freedom ; which inclines to Fa- 
talism. 2. Theory of the Nature of the Soul ; which inclines to Materi- 
ism. 3. Theory of the Existence of God which rests itself almost exclu 
sively upon external proofs, drawn irom the sensible world. — Recapitu- 
lation of the whole Examination of the Essay of Locke ; the Merits and 
the Faults which have been pointed out.— Of the spirit which has gov- 
erned this Examination. — Conclusion. 



CHAPTER X. 

The theories which I wish to discuss, are those concerning 
Liberty, the Soul, and God. I wish to explain these three 
theories in the order in which they occur in the Essay on 
the Understanding. 

In order to enable you to comprehend the true character of 
Locke's theory of Liberty, some preliminary explanations are 
indispensable. 

All the facts which can fall under the consciousness of man, 
and consequently under the reflection of the philosopher, re- 
solve themselves into three fundamental facts, which contain 
all the others ; three facts which, beyond doubt, are never, in 
reality, sohtary and separate from each other, but which are 
essentially not the less distinct, and which a careful analysis 
ought to distinguish, without dividing, in tJie complex phe- 
nomenon of intellectual life. These three facts are expressed 
in the words : to feel, to think, to act. 

I open a book and read ; let us decompose this fact, and we 
shall find in it three elements. 

Suppose I do not see the letters of which each page is com- 
posed, the figure and order of the letters ; it is obvious I shall 
not comprehend the meaning which usage has attached to 
those letters, and so T shall not read. To see, then, is the con- 
dition of reading. But, on the other hand, to see is still not 
to read ; for, the letters being seen, nothing would be done if 
the intellect was not superadded to the sense of sight, in or- 
der to comprehend the signification of the letters placed before 
my eyes. 

Here, then, are two facts, which the most superficial analy- 
sis immediately discerns in the fact of reading. Let us re- 
cognize the characteristics of these two facts. 

22 



246 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

Am I the cause of the vision, and in general terms, of the 
sensation ? Am I conscious of being the cause of this phe- 
nomenon ; of commencing, continuing, interrupting, increas- 
ing, diminishing, maintaining and abohshing it, at my pleas- 
ure? I will refer to other examples more striking. Suppose 
I press upon a sharp cutting instrument ; and a painful sen- 
sation results. I put a rose to my nose ; and an agreeable 
sensation results. Is it I who produce these two phenomena ? 
Can I make them cease ? Does the pain or pleasure come or 
go at my wish? No : I am subject to the pleasure as well as 
to the pain ; both come, subsist, and depart, without regard to 
my will. In a word, sensation is a phenomenon, marked in 
the eye of my consciousness, with the characteristic of ne- 
cessity. 

Let us now examine the character of the other fact, which 
sensation indeed precedes, but does not constitute. When the 
sensation is accomplished, the intellect applies itself to the sen- 
sation ; and first it pronounces that the sensation has a cause, 
the cutting instrument, the rose, and, to return to our first ex- 
ample, the letters placed before the eyes : this is the first judg- 
ment passed by the intellect. Farther : as soon as the sensa- 
tion is referred by the intellect to an external cause, namely, 
to the letters and the words which they form, this same intel- 
lect conceives the meaning of those letters and words, and 
judges of the truth or falseness of the proposition formed by 
them. The intellect, then, judges that the sensation has a 
cause ; but I wash to ask, if it could judge the contrary ? No : 
the intellect can no more judge that this is without a cause, 
than it can judge that it was possible there might or might 
not be the sensation, when the cutting instrument was in the 
wound, the rose at the organ of smelling, or the book before 
the eyes. — And not only does the intellect of necessity judge 
that the sensation refers to a cause, but it also of necessity 
judges that the propositions contained in the hues perceived by 
the eye are true or false ; for instance, that two and two make 
four, and not five, (fee. This is undeniable. I ask again, if 
it is in the power of the intellect, to judge, at pleasure, con- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 247 

cerning any particular action of which the book speaks, that 
it is good or bad ; or concerning any particular form which 
the book describes, that it is beautiful or ugly ? By no means. 
Undoubtedly different intellects, or the same intellect at dif- 
ferent periods of its exercise, may sometimes pass differ- 
ent judgments in regard to the same thing. Sometimes it 
may be deceived ; it will judge that which is false to be true, 
the good to be bad, the beautiful to be ugly, and the reverse ; 
but, at the moment when it judges that a proposition is true 
or false, an action good or bad, a form beautiful or ugly, at 
that moment, it is not in the power of the intellect to pass 
any other judgment than that it passes. It obeys laws which 
it did not make. It yields to motives which determine it inde- 
pendent of the will. In a word, the phenomenon of intelli- 
gence, comprehending, judging, knowing, thinking, whatever 
name be given to it, is marked with the same characteristic 
of necessity as the phenomenon of sensibility. If then the 
sensibiUty and the intellect are under the dominion of neces- 
sity, it is not in them, assuredly, that we are to seek for liberty. 

Where, then, are we to seek for it ? It remains only to 
look for it in the third fact blended with the two others, and 
which we have not yet analyzed. It must be found there, or 
it is to be found no where, and liberty is a chimera. 

To see and feel, to apprehend and judge, do not exhaust the 
complex fact submitted to our analysis. If I do not look at 
the letters of this book, shall I see them, or at least shall I see 
them distinctly ? If, seeing the letters, I do not give my at- 
tention to them, shall I comprehend them ? If instead of 
holding the book open, I shut it, will the perception of the 
words and the understanding of their meaning, take place, 
and the complex fact of reading be accomplished ? Certain- 
ly not. Now what is it, to open this book, to look, to give at- 
tention ? It is neither to feel nor to comprehend ; for to look is 
not to perceive, if the organ of vision is wanting, or is un- 
true ; to give attention, is still not to comprehend ; it is an in- 
dispensable condition of comprehending, but not always a 
sufficient reason ; it is not enough to be attentive to the state- 



248 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

ment of a problem, in order to solve it ; in a word, as has been 
said by one of my honoured colleagues, whom you no longer 
have the pleasure of hearing, but whom you can always read, — 
attention no more includes the understanding, than it is in- 
cluded in the sensibihty.* To be attentive is to act, it is to 
make a movement, internal or external, a new phenomenon, 
which it is impossible to confound with the two first, although 
it is perpetually blended with them, and along with them 
makes up the total and complete fact which we were to ana- 
lyze and explain. 

Let us examine the character of this third fact, the phe- 
nomenon of activity. Let us first distinguish the different 
sorts of action. There are actions, sometimes so called, which 
a man does not refer to himself, although he may be the theatre 
of them. Others may tell us that we performed these actions, 
but as to ourselves, we know nothing of them ; they are done 
in us, but we do them not. In lethargy, in sleep, in delirium 
we execute a multitude of motions which resemble actions, 
which are actions even, if you please, but which present 
the following characteristics : 

We have no consciousness of them at the time when we ap- 
pear to be performing them ; 

We have no recollection of having performed them ; 

Consequently we do not refer them to ourselves, neither 
while we were performing them, nor afterwards ; 

Consequently, again, they do not belong to us, and we do 
not impute them to ourselves, any more than to our neighbor, 
or to an inhabitant of another world. 

But are there not other actions besides such ? I open this 
book ; I look at the letters ; I give my attention to them ; these 
are certainly actions ; do they resemble the preceding ? 

I open this book : am I conscious of doing it ? Yes. 

This action being done, do I remember it ? Yes. 

Do I refer this action to myself as having done it ? Yes. 

♦ See Appendix, Note II. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 249 

Am I convinced that it belongs to me? Could I impute it to 
such or such another person, as well as to myself, or am I my- 
self solely and exclusively responsible in my own eyes? Here 
likewise I answer yes to myself. 

And in fine, at the moment when I do this action, along 
with the consciousness of doing it, am I not conscious likewise 
of power not to do it ? When I open this book, am I not con- 
scious of opening it, and conscious also of power not to open 
it ? When I look, do I not know at once that I look, and 
that I am able not to look ? When I give my attention, do I 
not know that I give it, and that I am able also not to give it? 
Is not this a fact which each of us can repeat, as many times 
as he pleases, in himself, and on a thousand occasions ? Is it 
not an undeniable experiment? And is it not also, the universal 
belief of the human race ? — Let us, then, generalize, and say, 
that there are motions and actions which we perform with the 
two-fold consciousness of doing them, and of being able not to 
do them. 

Now, an action performed with the consciousness of power 
not to do it, is what men have called a free action ; for there 
is no longer in it the characteristic of necessity. In the 
phenomenon of sensation, I could not help feeling it, 
when the agreeable sensation fell under my conscious- 
ness ; I could not but suffer, when the pain was present ; 
I was conscious of feeling it, with the consciousness of not be- 
ing able not to feel it. In the phenomenon of inteUigence, I 
could not help judging that two and two make four ; I am 
conscious of thinking this or that, with the consciousness of 
not being able not to think it. — In certain motions, likewise, 
I am so little conscious of power not to make them, that I 
make them without any consciousness of doing so, even at 
the very moment I am making them. But in a great num- 
ber of cases, I perform certain actions with the consciousness 
of doing them, and of being able not to do them, of ability to 
suspend or to continue them, to complete or cut them short. 
This is a class of facts of undoubted reality ; they are, I be- 
lieve, very numerous ; but if there were but a single one, sui 

22* 



250 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

gene?Hs, it would be enough to establish in man a power, that 
of hberty. Liberty, then, is the attribute, neither of the sen- 
sibiHty nor of the intelligence ; it belongs to the activity, and 
not to all the facts which are referable to that, but merely to a 
certain number, marked by peculiar characteristics, namely, 
acts which we perform with the consciousness of doing them, 
and of being able not to do them. 

After having stated a free act, it is important to analyze it 
more attentively. 

A free act is a phenomenon which includes many different 
elements blended together. To act freely, is to do an act with 
the consciousness of being able not to do it ; now, to do an act 
with the consciousness of being able not do it, supposses that 
one prefers doing it to not doing it ; to commence an action, 
with abihty not to have commenced it, is to have preferred to 
commence it ; and so of continuing or suspending, comple- 
ting or breaking off. Now, to prefer, supposes that we have 
motives of preference, motives to perform the action, and mo- 
tives not to perform it, that we know these motives, and that 
we prefer the one to the other ; in a word, preference supposes 
the knowledge of motives for, and against. What these mo- 
tives are, whether passions or ideas, errors or truths, this or 
that, is of little moment ; what is important, is to know what 
is the faculty here in operation, that is to say, what the faculty 
is which knows these motives, which prefers one to the other, 
which judges that the one is preferable to the other, for that is 
the meaning of the word prefer. Now, what is it that knows, 
and judges, but the intellect ? The intellect, then, is the fac- 
ulty which prefers. But to prefer one motive to another, to 
judge that the one is preferable to the other, it is not enough 
to know the different motives, it is necessary hkewise to have 
compared and weighed them ; it is necessary to have dehbera- 
ted on them in order to conclude ; in fact to prefer, is to judge 
definitively, to conclude. What is it then to deliberate ? It 
is nothing else than to examine with doubt, to appreciate the 
relative value of those different motives which present them- 
selves, but not at first with that evidence which decides the 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. X51 

judgment, the preference. Now what is that which examines, 
doubts, and finally decides ? Evidently the intellect, which, 
subsequently, after having passed many provisional judgments, 
will abrogate them all, in order to pass its final judgment, will 
conclude and prefer after having deliberated. It is in the in- 
tellect, that the phenomenon of preference, and the other phe- 
nomena included in it, take place. Thus far then we are still 
within the sphere of the intelligence, and not in that of ac- 
tion. The intellect, to be sure, has its conditions ; no one 
examines who does not wish to examine, and the will inter- 
venes in deliberation ; but it is simply as a condition, and not 
as the ground of the phenomenon ; for, although it is true, 
that without the faculty of willing, all examination and de- 
liberation would be impossible, it is also tine, that the faculty 
which examines and deliberates, the faculty whose proper of- 
fice is examination, deliberation, and all judgment, whether 
suspensive or decisive, is the intellect. Deliberation, and con- 
clusion or preference, are, then, facts purely intellectual.* Let 
us pursue our analysis. 

We have conceived the different motives for doing or not do- 
ing an action ; we have deliberated on these motives, and we 
have preferred the one to the other ; we have concluded that we 
should do it, rather than not do it ; but to conclude that it 
ought to be done, and to do it, are not the same thing. When 
the intellect has judged that this or that is to be dofte, from 
such or such motives, it remains to pass on to action, and at 
once to resolve, to take sides, to say to ourselves no longer : 
I ought to do, but : I will do. Now the faculty, which says: 
I ought to do it, is not and cannot be the faculty which says : 
I will do it, I take the resolution to do it. Here the action of 
the intelligence completely ceases. I ought to do it, is a judg- 
ment ; I will do it, is not a judgment, nor consequently an in- 
tellectual phenomenon. In fact, the moment we take the res- 
olution to do an action, we take it with a consciousness of be- 
ing able to take a contrary resolution. See, then, a new ele- 

* See Appendix, Note JJ. 



252 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

ment, which must not be confounded with the former. This 
element is the will ; one moment before we were in a state of 
judgment and knowledge; now we are in a state of willing. 
I say willing, and not doing ; for, as to judge that a thing 
should be done, is not to will to do it, so hkewise to will to do 
it, is yet not to do it. To will is an act, and not a judgment ; 
but it is an act altogether internal. It is evident that this act 
is not an action properly so called ; in order to arrive at action, it 
is necessary to pass from the internal sphere of the will, to the 
sphere of the external world, wherein the action is definitively 
accompUshed which you first conceived, deliberated and prefer- 
red, and then willed that it should be executed. If there were 
no external world, there would be no completed action ; and not 
only is it necessary that there should be an external Avorld, 
but also that the power of willing should be connected with 
another power, a physical power, which serves as an instru- 
ment, and by which it can attain the external world. Sup- 
pose that the will was not united with an organization, there 
w^ould no longer be any bridge between the will and the ex- 
ternal world ; and no external action would be possible. The 
physical power, necessary to action, is the organization ; it is ad- 
mitted tliat the muscular system is the special instrument of the 
will. Take away the muscular system, and there is no more 
effort possible, consequently no more locomotion and move- 
ment possible, and therefore no more external action possible. 
Thus, to resume what has been said, the total action, which 
we were to analyze, resolves itself into three elements perfectly 
distinct : 1. the intellectual element, which is composed of 
the knowledge of the motives for and against, of dehberation, 
of preference, of choice ; 2. the voluntary element, which 
consists in an internal act, namely the resolution, the deter- 
mination to do it ; 3. the physical element, or external ac- 
tion. 

If these three elements exhaust the action, that is to say, 
the phenomenon in which we have recognized the character 
of liberty in opposition to the phenomena of inteUigence and 
sensation, — the question now to be decided is, precisely in 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY asa 

which of these three elements Uberty is to be found, that is, 
the power of doing with the consciousness of being able not to 
do. Does this power of doing, while conscious of the power not 
to do, belong to the first element, the intellectual element of 
the free action ? It does not, for it is not at the will of a man 
to judge that such or such a motive is preferable to another ; 
we are not master of our preferences, we judge in this respect 
according to our intellectual nature, which has its necessary 
laws, without having the consciousness of being able to judge 
otherwise, and even with the consciousness of not being able 
to judge otherwise than we do. It is not then in this element 
that we are to look for liberty ; still less is it in the third ele- 
ment, in the physical action ; for this action supposes an ex- 
ternal world, an organization corresponding to it, and, in this 
organization, a muscular system, sound and suitable, without 
which the physical action is impossible. When we accom- 
plish it, we are conscious of acting, but under the condition of 
a theatre of which we have not the disposal, and of instru- 
ments, of which we have but an imperfect disposal, which 
we can neither replace, if they escape us, and they may do so 
every moment, nor repair, if they are out of order and unfaith- 
ful, as is often the case, and which are subject to laws pecul- 
iar to themselves over which we have no power and which 
we scarcely even know : whence it follows, that we do not 
act here with the consciousness of being able to do the con • 
trary of what we do. Liberty, then, is no more to be found 
in the third, than in the first element. It can then only be 
in the second, and there in fact we find it. 

Neglect the first and the third element, the judgment and 
the physical action, and let the second element, the wilhng, 
subsist by itself, analysis discovers in this single element two 
terms, namely, a special act of willing, and the power of wil- 
ling, which is within us, and to which we refer the special act. 
That act is an effect in relation to the power of willing which 
is its cause ; and this cause, in order to produce its effect, has 
need of no other theatre and no other instrument, than itself. 
It produces it directly, without intermediate, and without con- 



254 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

dition, continues and consummates, or suspends and modifies, 
creates it entire, or annihilates it ; and at the moment it ex- 
erts itself in any special act, we are conscious that it might 
exert itself in a special act totally contrary, without any ob- 
stacle, without being thereby exhausted ; so that after having 
changed its acts a hundred times, the faculty remains inte- 
grally the same, inexhaustible and identical, amidst the perpetu- 
al variety of its applications, being always able to do what it 
does not do, and able not to do what it does. Here, then, in 
all its plenitude, is the characteristic of liberty. 

If the whole outward world were wanting to the will, yet 
if the organization and the muscular system existed, the will 
could still produce muscular effort, and consequently a sensi- 
ble fact, even though this fact would not pass beyond the lim- 
its of the organization. This M. de Biran has perfectly 
established.* He regarded the phenomenon of muscular ef- 
fort as the type of causality, of the wiU and of freedom. But 
while I readily agree with him, in regarding the muscular effort 
and the consciousness of this effort and the sensation which 
accompanies it, as the most eminent and most easily appre- 
ciable type of our causative power, voluntary and free, I say 
still, that it is but an external and derivative type, and not 
the primitive and essential type ; otherwise, M . de Biran would 
be obliged to carry his theory to the extreme of asserting that 
where there is absence or paralysis of the muscles, there can 
be no causation, volition, or active and free phenomenon. 
Now, I maintain to the contrary ; I maintain that if the ex- 
ternal world be removed, and the muscular and locomotive 
system taken away, and if there remained to man, along with 
an organization purely nervous, an inteUigence capable of 
conceiving motives, of dehberating, of preferring and choos- 
ing, there would remain to him the power of willing, which 
might stiU exert itself in special acts, by volitions, in which 
the proper causality and the hberty of the will would still man- 
ifest itself, although these effects, these free volitions, would 

* Seech. IV. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 255 

never pass beyond the internal world of the will, and would 
have no reaction on the organization through a muscular sys- 
tem, and would produce no phenomena of muscular effort ; 
phenomena, which without doubt, are internal in reference 
to the external w^orld, but which are themselves external in 
reference to the will. Thus, suppose I will to move my arm, 
without being able to do it, through defect of the muscles ; 
there is still in this fact : 1. the act of wiUing to move my 
arm, a special volition ; 2. the general power of willing, which 
is the direct cause of this volition ; — there would, then, in such 
a case, be an effect and a cause ; there would be consciousness 
of this effect and cause, of a causal act, of an internal causa- 
tive force, supreme in its own world, in the world of wilhng ; 
even though it might be absolutely unable to pass to the ex- 
ternal action, because the muscular system was defective. 

The theory of M. de Biran, then, takes the free act only in 
its external manifestation and not in its foundation, in a re- 
markable fact undoubtedly, but which itself supposes an an- 
tecedent, namely the profound and intimate fact of willing 
with its immediate and proper effect. Here, in my judgment, 
is the primitive type of freedom, — and this the conclusion of 
this analysis, too long, perhaps for its place, and too brief in 
itself not to be still very gross. When,' in an action, we are 
seeking for that which constitutes its freedom, we may be de- 
ceived in two ways : 

Either it may be sought in what I have called the intellec- 
tual element of the action, the knowledge of motives, delibera- 
tion, preference, choice, — and then it cannot be found ; for it 
is evident that the different motives for or against, apply to 
and govern the intellect, which is not free to judge indifferent- 
ly this or the opposite. They who seek for it thus, do not find 
hberty in the intellectual part of action , they decide therefore 
that there is no liberty. Undoubtedly it is not where they 
seek it, but it may be elsewhere : such is the first way of fall- 
ing into error. 

Or, they seek for liberty in the physical element of action ; 
and they do not find it there, at least not constantly, for every 



256 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

action is not the reflection of a volition ; and they are tempted 
to conclude that hberty is but an accident, which sometimes 
exists, but three quarters of the time has no existence, and 
which is dependent on physical conditions, either external or 
internal. They see there no token of the proper and funda- 
mental power of human nature. 

Now if we wish to refer to their most general causes these 
two sorts of errors, that is, if we wish to consider them in re- 
ference to scientific method, we may say that they consist, 
the first, in looking for the phenomenon of liberty in the ante- 
cedent of it, namely, in the intellectual fact which always pre- 
cedes the fi-ee act of the will, but which does not engender and 
contain it as the cause engenders and contains the effect ; the 
second, in looking for the phenomenon of liberty, not in the 
antecedent, but in the consequent, so to say, of the phenome- 
non, in the sensible fact which sometimes (but not always) 
follows willing, but which does not inckide it, except as bor- 
rowed from another source. — This brings us back to the gen- 
eral source of all the errors of Locke : the confusion of an idea 
with that which precedes or that which follows it. You have 
seen tliis in regard to space, to time, the infinite, substance, 
cause, good and evil ; and you may now see it in regard to 
the theory of Liberty. 

Locke begins (Book II. ch. XXI. Of Power, § 5) by di- 
viding aU the phenomena of consciousness, not into three 
classes, but into two, the understanding and the will, a divi- 
sion radically false and contrary to facts. 

Then follows a classification of actions. 

" All the actions that we have any idea of, reduce them- 
selves to two, namely, thinking and motion." Ihid. § 8. 
Sometimes, in Locke, the will includes both these actions, 
sometimes it applies only to motion. 

" This power which the mind has to order the considera- 
tion of any idea or the forbearing to consider it ; or to pre- 
fer the motion of any part of the body to its rest, and vice 
versa in any particular instance, is that which we call will. 
The actual exercise of that power, by directing any particu- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 257 

lar action, or its forbearance, is that which we call volition or 
willing." Ihid. § 5. 

Here, you perceive, the will is made to apply to acts of the 
understanding as well as to motions of the body. In the fol- 
lowing passage, on the contrary, it is applied only to the lat- 
ter : " Volition, it is plain, is an act of the mind knowingly 
exerting that dominion it takes itself to have over any part of 
the man, by employing it in, or withholding it from, any par- 
ticular action." Ihid. § 15. 

The theory of the will, in Locke, appears, then, as fluctu- 
ating and inconsistent as the other theories which have been 
exhibited. As to the rest, on both hands there is equal error. 
Does Locke seek for the will in the understanding ? It is 
clear he cannot find it there ; for liberty is not and cannot be 
found in the operations of thought : and Locke is here de- 
ceived by confounding a phenomenon with that which pre- 
cedes it, and does not include it. — Again : does Locke wish 
to understand, by will, merely the faculty of moving his body 1 
It is clear likewise that he will not find freedom in that facul- 
ty ; for, as you know, our physical power is hmited on all 
hands, and we have not always the control of it with the 
consciousness of power to do the contrary of what we actually 
do ; and here Locke is deceived by confounding the internal 
phenomenon of volition with the external phenomenon of 
motion which sometimes follows the volition, but which is not 
the volition itself This, however, mixed up with many in- 
consistencies, is the predominant theory of Locke, a theory, 
which, hke that of M. de Biran, but with less profoundness, 
concentrates the will into one of its applications, visible ex- 
ternal action. If the will is only the power of motion, it is 
*not always and essentially free. This is the positive con- 
clusion of Locke : 

Ibid. § 14. " Liberty belongs not to the will. — If this be 
so (as I imagine it is) I leave it to be considered, whether it 
may not help to put an end to that long agitated, and I 
think unreasonable, because unintelligible question, namely : 

whether marHs will be free or no. The question itself 

23 



258 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

is altogether improper ; and it is as insignificant to ask wheth- 
er man's will be free, as to ask, whether liis sleep be swift, 
or his virtue square " 

§ 10. " Our idea of Uberty reaches as far as that power [of 
doing or forbearing to do], and no farther. For wherever re- 
straint comes in to check that power, or compulsion takes 
away that indifferency of ability on either side to act, or to 
forbear acting ; there, liberty, and our notion of it, presently 
cease." 

Now, as it is unquestionable that a thousand obstacles op- 
pose, or may perpetually oppose, our power of acting (evi- 
dently here by him meant physical), it follows that there is 
sometimes hberty and sometimes not ; and even when it ex- 
ists, it exists only by the concurrence of external circumstan- 
ces which might have prevented it. To explain liberty in 
this way, is to destroy it. Liberty is not and cannot be, nei- 
ther in the faculty of thinking, nor in that of [outward] action, 
since they are subject to necessary laws and conditions. But 
Liberty exists in the pure power of Willing, which is always 
accompanied by the consciousness of the power to will (I do 
not say power to think, or power to act, but power to icill) 
the contrary of what it wills. Locke has then destroyed 
liberty by denying it to the will, and seeking for it either in 
the thinking faculty, or in the power of outward motion. 
He destroys it, and he thinks he has even destroyed the ques- 
tion concerning Uberty. But the behef of the human race 
protests against the annihilation of liberty, and the whole 
history of philosophy protests against the annihilation of the 
question concerning it.* 

I now pass to another point, the theory of the nature of 
the soul. 

It has been shown (ch. III.) that it is impossible to know- 
any phenomenon of consciousness, the phenomena of sensa- 
tion, or volition, or intelligence, without instantly referring 

* See Appendix, Note KK, for some remarks on the foregoing discus- 
sion, and also for some general observations on the question concerning the 
Will and Freedom.— Tr. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 2S9 

these phenomena to a subject one and identical, which is self, 
the I : and hkewise, that we cannot know the external phe- 
nomena of resistance, soUdity, figure, color, smell, taste, <fcc., 
without judging that they are not phenomena in the air, but 
phenomena which pertain to something real, which is solid, 
figured, colored, &,c. On the other hand, if you did not 
know any of the phenomena of consciousness, you would 
never have the least idea of the subject of these phenome- 
na ; and if you did not know the external phenomena of 
resistance, figure, color, &c., you would never have any idea 
of a subject of these phenomena. These characteristics or 
attributes, are, then, for you, the only signs or tokens of the 
nature of the subjects of these phenomena, whether they are 
phenomena of consciousness, or external phenomena. In ex- 
amining the phenomena which fall under the senses, we find 
important differences between them, which it is useless to in- 
sist upn here, and which establish the distinction of prima- 
ry and secondary quahties. Among the primary quahties, 
and in the first rank, is solidity, which is given in the sen- 
sation of resistance, and inevitably accompanied by that of 
form, &c. On the contrary, when you examine the pheno- 
mena of consciousness, you do not find in them this char- 
acteristic of resistance, of sohdity, form, <kc. ; and you could 
no more speak of the phenomena of your consciousness as 
having figure, solidity, resistance, than as having secondary 
qualities equally foreign to them, color, Uiste, sound, smell, 
(fee. Now, as the subject is for us, nothing but the aggre- 
gate of the phenomena which reveal it to us with the addi- 
tion of the idea of its own existence, so far forth as the sub- 
ject of the inherence of these qualities, it follows that, un- 
der phenomena marked with dissimilar characteristics, and 
altogether foreign to each other, the human mind conceives 
their subjects dissimilar and of different kind. Thus, as so- 
lidity and figure have nothing in common with the pheno- 
mena of sensation, of thought and of will, as every solid is 
for us extended and necessarily located by us in space, while 
our thoughts, our volitions, and our sensations, are for us 



260 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

unextended and cannot be conceived and located in space, 
but only in time, — the human mind concludes with perfect 
strictness that the subject of the external phenomena has the 
character of the former, and that the subject of the phe- 
nomena of consciousness has the same character with the 
latter, that the one is solid and extended, the other neither solid 
nor extended. In fine, as that which is solid and extended 
is divisible, and as that which is not solid nor extended, is in- 
divisible, divisibility is therefore attributed to the solid and 
extended subject, and indivisibility, that is, simplicity, is at- 
tributed to the subject which is not solid nor extended. Who 
of us, in fact, does not believe himself a being indivisible and 
simple, one and identical, the same yesterday, to-day, and to- 
morrow ? Now, then, the word, Body, Matter, signifies noth- 
ing else than the subject of those external phenomena, of 
which the most remarkable are form, extension, solidity, 
divisibility. The word Spirit, Soul, signifies nothing else 
than the subject of those phenomena of consciousness, 
thought, volition, sensation, phenomena simple, unextended, 
not solid, (fcc. See the whole idea of spirit, and the whole 
idea of matter. There is nothing more under the idea of 
matter^ than that of an aggregate of sensible quahties, with 
the addition of a subject of the inherence of those qualities ; 
there is nothing more under the idea of spirit, than that of 
an aggregate of the phenomena of consciousness, with the 
addition of that of the existence of a subject in which those 
phenomena co-exist. You see, then, the whole of what is 
requisite in order to identify matter with mind, or mind with 
matter ; it is necessary to pretend that sensation, thought, 
volition, are reducible, in the last analysis, to sohdity, exten- 
sion, figure, divisibility, (fcc. ; or that solidity, extension, figure, 
&c., are reducible to sensation, thought, will. [And accord- 
ing to the starting-point of the reduction, and its direction, 
are the two opposite systematic results.] In the view of 
Spiritualism, there will be but one substance, namely, Spirit, 
because there is but one single general phenomenon, namely, 
consciousness. In the view of Materialism, there will be but 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 2^ 

one substance, namely, Matter, because there is but one single 
fundamental phenomenon, namely, soUdity or extension. 
These are the two great systems ; they have each their part of 
truth and their part of error, which it is not my purpose now to 
determine. I wish only to state the fact, that Locke incHnes 
more to the one than the other, and that he is almost led to 
derive thought from extension, and consequently to make the 
mind a modification of matter. It is true, Locke is far from 
explaining himself clearly or decisively on this point ; but he 
advances the notion that it might not be impossible that mat- 
ter, besides the phenomenon of extension, by a certain dispo- 
sition and arrangement of its particles, should produce also 
the phenomenon of thought. He does not say that the soul 
is material, but that it might very well be so. 

See this important passage, B. IV. ch. III. § 6 : " We have 
the ideas of matter and of thinkings but possibly shall never 
be able to know, whether any mere material being thinks, or 
no ; it being impossible for us, by the contemplation of our 
own ideas without relation, to discover, whether omnipotency 
has not given to some systems of matter fitly disposed, a pow- 
er to perceive and think, or else joined and fitted to matter so 
disposed, a thinking immaterial substance. What cer- 
tainty of knowledge can any one have that some perceptions, 
such as pleasure and pain, should not be in some bodies them- 
selves, after a certain manner modified, as well as that they 
should be in an imniaterial substance, upon the motion of 
the parts of the body ?" 

Locke therefore declares that, apart from revelation, and 
within the limits of reason alone, he is not certain that the 
soul may not be material. Now you conceive that if the soul 
is not immaterial, it runs some risk of not being immortal ; 
for, if the phenomena of thought and consciousness are noth- 
ing but the result of the combination of material particles, 
extended and divisible, the dissolution of this organization 
may well involve that of thought and the soul. Locke replies 
that this consequence is not to be feared ; for, material or not, 
revelation guaranties the immortality of the soul. "And 

23* 



262 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

therefore, says he, {ibid.) it is not of such mighty necessity 
to determine one way or the other, as some over-zealous for 
or against the immateriality of the soul, have been forward 
to make the world believe." And when his adversaries in- 
sist, when Bishop Stillingfleet objects, that " it takes off very 
much from the evidence of immortality, to make it depend 
whoUy upon God's giving that of which it is not capable in 
its own nature," Locke is ready to cry out upon him as a 
blasphemer ; " that is to say, says he, it is not as credible 
upon divine revelation, that a material substance should be 
immortal, as an immaterial ; or which is all one, God is not 
equally to be believed when he declared it, because the im- 
mortality of a material substance cannot be demonstrated 
from natural reason." Again : " any one's not being able to 
demonstrate the soul to be immortal, takes not off from the 
evidence of its immortality, if God has revealed it ; because 
the veracity of God is a demonstration of the truth of what 
he has revealed, and the want of another demonstration of a 
proposition, that is demonstratively true, takes not off from the 
evidence of it." And he goes on to say that his system is the 
only Christian system. Certainly I believe no such thing : 
but without descending to this ground, which is not ours, no- 
tice the consequence involved in such a system. If the im- 
materiality of the soul is very doubtful and indifferent, and 
if the immortality of the soul, in itself equally doubtful as its 
immateriality, is grounded solely upon the promise of God, 
who is to be beheved upon his word, the Christian revelation ; 
it follows that whoever has not the happiness to be enhghten- 
ed, as Locke was, by the rays of the Christian Revelation, 
and who has no other resource than that of his own reason, 
can legitimately believe neither in the immateriality nor the 
immortality of the soul ; and this is to condemn the entire 
human race to materialism, previous to Christianity, and 
more than half of humanity, since then. But facts repel 
this sad consequence ; facts attest that reason, so feeble ac- 
cording to Locke, has sufficed to establish, and still suflSces to 
establish the two-fold conviction of the immateriality and im- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 263 

mortality of the soul. The universal and perpetual revela. 
tion of Reason, {the light of the word which lighteth eve- 
ry man that cometh into the worlds) more or less vivid, more 
or less pure, has every where preceded, prepared for, or sup- 
plied the place of that [special revelation] which in the designs 
of Providence, and in the progress of humanity, has come to 
establish, extend, and complete the former. — Finally I wish 
you to notice that it is the father of the Sensual school of the 
eighteenth century, who here announces himself in opposi- 
tion to reason, and substitutes theology in place of philosophy, 
and, as to the rest, with perfect loyalty, for he firmly believed 
in revelation and in Christianity which establish and save the 
immateriality, or at least the immortality of the soul. Hereaf- 
ter* .we shall see what became of these two great truths in 
the hands of the successors of Locke, who, after his example, 
declare reason in respect to these subjects feeble and incompe- 
tent, and hke him refer them to faith, to revelation, to theolo- 
gy, some believing and some disbelieving the authority they 
invoke.t 

I have proved, I think, that Locke, in seeking for liberty 
where it could not be found, in the power of motion, has, in 
the midst of many contradictions put philosophy upon the 
route to fatahsm. — I have shown hkewise that, without affirm- 
ing the soul to be material and perishable, he at least says 
that revelation alone can give us any certainty of it ; and he 
has consequently put philosophy, properly speaking, upon the 
road to materialism. — Now lam happy to declare that Locke 
has not the least in the world put philosophy upon the road to 
atheism. Locke, not only as a christian, but as a philosopher, 
admits and proclaims the existence of God, and has given ex- 
cellent natural proofs of it ; but it is important to put you fully 
in possession of the particular character of these proofs, which 
are likewise in keeping with the general system of Locke. 

* Alluding to future lectures which it was the intention of Cousin to 
have given, but which have never been given, designed to exhibit the histo- 
ry and progress of the Sensual school, with a critical examination of the 
principal successors of Locke. — Tr. 

t See Appendix, Note LL. 



264 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

There are various and different proofs of the existence of 
God. The gratifying result of my studies in this respect, is, 
that these various proofs have different degrees of strictness in 
their form, but that they all have a foundation of truth, which 
needs simply to be disengaged and put in clear hght in order 
to give them an incontrovertible authority. Every thing leads 
us to God ; there is no bad way of arriving thither ; we may 
go in different ways. In general, all the proofs of every sort 
of the existence of God, are comprehended under two great 
classes, namely : proofs a posteriori^ and proofs a priori. 
Either I give myself, aided by my senses and consciousness, 
to the observation and study of the external world and of my 
own existence ; and simply by a knowledge, more or less pro- 
found and extended, of nature and myself, after sufficient ob- 
servations, and inductions founded upon them, I arrive at the 
knowledge of God who made man and the world. This is call- 
ed the demonstration a posteriori^ of the existence of God. — 
Or, I may neglect the external world, and fall back upon myself, 
in the entirely interior world of consciousness ; and even there, 
without engaging in the study of its numerous phenomena, I 
may derive at once from reason an idea, a single idea, which, 
without the aid of experience, in the hands of that same rea- 
son, becomes the basis of a demonstration of the existence 
of God. This is called the demonstration a priori. 

Look, for example, at the most celebrated proof a priori, and 
which includes nearly all the others of this kind. When we 
fall back upon ourselves, the first glance which we bestow^ 
upon the phenomena of consciousness discovers to us this 
striking and incontestable characteristic, that they begin, and 
pause, renew themselves, and cease, have their different de- 
grees of intensity and energy, are marked with the qualities 
of more and less ; in a word they are imperfect, limited, finite. 
Now this characteristic of finite cannot, as we have seen 
(ch. Ill,) be given us, without the reason entering into exer- 
cise, and passing instantly this judgment : that there is some- 
thing infinite, if there is any thing finite. If you are unac- 
quainted with the external world, consciousness would suffice 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 265 

to give you the idea of the finite, and consequently the rea- 
son would have a sufficient basis for developing itself and sug- 
gesting the idea of the infinite. The idea of the infinite op- 
posed to the idea of the finite, is nothing less than the idea of 
perfection opposed to the idea of imperfection. What in fact is 
consciousness for us, but the sentiment of our imperfection and 
our weakness ? I do not dispose of my sensations ; they come 
and go at their will ; they appear and disappear, often with- 
out my being able to retain or repel them. Nor do I control 
my judgments, they are subject to laws I have never made. I 
have the direction of my will, it is true, but frequently it re- 
sults only in internal acts, without being able to pass into ex- 
ternal actions ; and sleep, and lethargy, and deUrium, suspend it. 
On every hand, the finite and imperfect appear in me. But I 
cannot have the idea of the finite and imperfect, without hav- 
ing the idea of the perfect and infinite. These two ideas are lo- 
gical correlatives ; and in the order of their acquisition, that 
of finite and imperfect precedes the other, but it scarcely pre- 
cedes it. It is not possible for the reason, as soon as conscious- 
ness iurnishes the mind with the idea of the finite and im- 
perfect, not to conceive the idea of the infinite and perfect. 
Now, the infinite and the perfect, is God himself It is 
enough therefore for you to have the idea of the imperfect and 
finite, in order to have the idea of the perfect and the infinite, 
that is to say, of God, whether you do or do not call it by that 
name, whether you know how to express in words the con- 
victions of your intelHgence, or whether, through defect of 
language and analysis, they remain obscure and indistinct in 
the depths of your soul. Once more, then, I say : do not go 
to consult the savage, the child, the idiot, to know whether 
they have the idea of God ; ask them, or rather, without ask- 
ing them any thing, ascertain if they have the idea of the im- 
perfect and the finite ; and if they have it, and they cannot 
but have it, if they have the least apperception, be sure that 
they have an obscure and confused idea of something infinite 
and perfect ; be sure that what they discern of themselves 
and of the world, does not suffice them, and that they at once 



286 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

humble and exalt themselves in an intimate faith in the exis- 
tence of something infinite and perfect, that is to say, of God. 
The word may be wanting among them, because the idea is 
not yet clear and distinct ; but no less does it exist within the 
folds of the opening intelligence, and the philosophic observer 
easily discovers it there. 

The infinite and the perfect are given you along with the 
imperfect and the finite, and the finite and the imperfect are 
given you immediately by your consciousness, as soon as there 
are, under the eye of consciousness, any phenomena. The 
idea of the finite and imperfect, being, then, primitive, the cor- 
relative idea of the infinite and perfect, and consequently, of 
God, is also primitive. 

The idea of God is a primitive idea ; but firom whence 
comes this idea ? Is it a creature of your imagination, an il- 
lusion, a chimera ? You can imagine a gorgon, a centaur, 
and you can imagine them not to exist ; but is it in your pow- 
er, when the finite and the imperfect are given, to conceive or 
not to conceive, the infinite and perfect ? No : the one being 
given, the other is also given and necessarily. It is not then 
a chimera ; it is the necessary product of reason ; therefore it 
is a legitimate product. Either, you must renounce your rea- 
son ; and then we will talk no more neither of reason, nor of 
truth, nor of knowledge, nor of Philosophy ; or, you must ad- 
mit the authority of reason, and admit it in regard to this sub- 
ject, as well as in regard to other subjects. 

You are a finite being, and you have the necessary idea of 
an infinite being. But how could a finite and imperfect be- 
ing have the idea of one perfect and infinite, and have it ne- 
cessarily, if such a being did not exist? Take away God, 
the infinite and the perfect, and let there be only man, the 
finite and imperfect, and I shaH never deduce, from the finite, 
the idea of the infinite, from the imperfect, the idea of the 
perfect, from humanity, the idea of God ; but if God, if the 
perfect, if the infinite exist, then my reason will be able to 
conceive them. In fine, you see where I wish to come : the 
simple fact, of the conception of God by the reason, the sim- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 267 

pie idea of God, the simple possibility of the existence of God, 
implies the certainty and necessity of the existence of God. 

Such, nearly, is the celebrated demonstration a priori^ of 
the existence of God, that is, the proof independently of ex- 
perience. Now look at the proof a posteriori ; a few words 
will be enough to put you in possession of it ; it explains itself. 

This proof consists in arriving at God solely by an induc- 
tion founded on experience, and on observation more or less 
extended. Instead of closing your senses, and opening only 
your consciousness, you open your senses, and close up more 
or less your consciousness, in order to survey every where na- 
ture and the vast world which surrounds you ; and by a con- 
templation, more or less profound, by studies, more or less intel- 
ligent, you become penetrated with the beauty, the order, 
the intelligence, the skill, the perfection diffused through the 
universe ; and as the cause must, at least, be equal to the effect, 
you reason from Nature to its Author ; from the existence 
and perfection of the one, you conclude the existence and 
perfection of the other. 

These two proofs, I repeat are good ; and instead of choos- 
ing between them, we ought to do as the human mind does, 
employ them both. In fact, they are so little exclusive 
of each other, that they each contain something of the 
other. The argument ajjriori, for example, supposes an ele- 
ment a posteriori , a datum of observation and experience, for, 
although the idea of the infinite, of the perfect, of unity, of the 
absolute, conducts directly to God, and although this idea is giv- 
en by reason, and not by experience, yet it is not given inde- 
pendently of all experience, [is not given xoithout experience, 
as its occasion and condition,] since reason would never give us 
this idea without the simultaneous, or anterior idea of the 
finite, the imperfect, of variety, of the contingent, which is de- 
rived from experience ; only in this case, the experimental da- 
tum is rather internal than external, it is borrowed from the 
consciousness, and not from the senses ; though it is still true, 
that every phenomenon of consciousness supposes a sensitive 
phenomenon, simultaneous or anterior. An element a pos- 



368 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

teriori intervenes, then, as the condition of the demonstra- 
tion a priori. 

So hkewise, a little reflection shows, that the proof from ex- 
perience a posteriori implies an element purely rational and 
a priori. In fact, on what condition do you conclude from 
nature to God 7 On condition that you admit, or at least, that 
you employ, the principle of causahty : for, if you are desti- 
tute of this principle, you might contemplate and study the 
world forever, you might forever admire its perfection, the or- 
der and wisdom which shine in it, without ever rising to the 
supposition that all this is only an effect, that it all must have 
a cause. Take away the principle of causahty, and there are 
for us no longer any causes, there would no longer be, neither 
the need nor the possibility of seeking for them, nor of find- 
ing them, and induction would no longer go from the world 
and physical order to its cause, to God. Now, the principle 
of causahty has indeed an experimental condition ; but it is 
not itself derived from experience ; it supposes experience, and it 
is appUed to experience, but it governs it and decides upon it. It 
properly belongs to the reason. (See ch. IV.) — See then an ele- 
ment a priori, in the proof a posteriori. The basis of this ar- 
gument is certainly experimental, but its instrument is ration- 
al. — Farther : this world is full of harmony ; I believe it ; and 
the more we look at it, especially if we place ourselves in a cer- 
tain point of view which observation may indeed establish but 
which it does not give, the more we are struck with the order of 
the world ; but we can also, by consulting only the senses, find 
appearances, of confiision and disorder ; we cannot compre- 
hend the reason of volcanoes which overwhelm flourishing 
cities, of earthquakes and tempests, &c., in a word, observa- 
tion employed alone, in its weakness and limitations, and 
when not directed by a superior principle, may easily find dis- 
order and evil in the world. Now, if to this deceptive experi- 
ence, you connect the rational principle, that every thing which 
is true of the effect is true of the cause, you will be forced to 
admit in the cause what there is in the effect, that is to say, 
not only intelligence, wisdom, and power, but also degrading 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 369 

imperfections, as has indeed been done by more than one dis- 
tinguished mind, when under the exclusive direction of expe- 
rience, and by more than one people in the infancy of humani- 
ty. In fine, so many diverse effects, of which experience does 
not always show the connection, might easily conduct not to 
God as one sole cause, but to divers causes, and to a plurality 
of Gods : and history is at hand to justify this apprehension. — 
You see then clearly, that the proof a posteriori., which, in 
the first place, essentially requires the rational principle of 
causality, has need also of other principles still to direct the 
application of causahty to experience, principles, which, in or- 
der to govern experience, should not come from it, but must 
come from reason. The argument a posteriori supposes, 
then, more than one element a priori. Thus completed, it 
has its use and its excellence, as well as the argument a priori, 
when well regulated and recalled to its true principles. 

These two arguments are not in themselves exclusive of 
each other ; but one or the other is more striking, according 
to the turn of mind, and moral and religious condition of indi- 
viduals and nations. The Christian religion, rational and 
idealistic, which rests on the mind and not on the senses, cm- 
ploys chiefly proofs a priori. Neglecting Nature, or regard- 
ing it under an ideal point of view, it is in the depths of the 
soul, through Reason and the Word, that it rises to God. The 
argument a priori, is eminently the Christian argument. It 
belongs particularly to the reign of Christianity, to the middle 
age, to the Scholastic philosophy which represents it. There 
it is, that developed, cleared up, spread abroad and almost pop- 
ularized in Europe, by the great doctors of the Church, it passed 
from Christian theology, into the Ideal school of modern 
philosophy, through Descartes,* Malebranche, Spinoza, Leib- 
nitz, Wolf, and their most recent successors. On the contrary 
the religions of the first age of humanity, which are not yet 
religious in spirit and in truth, and which are almost solely 
founded upon the senses and appearance, employ more espe- 

* See Appendix, Note MM. 
24 



270 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

cially the proof a posteriori ; and while rehgion, founded on 
the ideal giound, tends too much to the separation of God 
from nature, because the proof upon which it rests separates 
too much reason and consciousness from the senses and 
from experience ; so, in their turn, the religions of Na- 
ture make God in the image of nature, and reflect all the im- 
perfections of the argument a posteriori. Hence, one of two 
things results : either, the sensual Theology receives the ra- 
tional a priori principle of causality, contrary to the spirit of 
the philosophical school to which that theology pertains, and 
thus arrives at God by an inconsistency ; or, it rejects the 
principle of causahty, and then it does not and cannot arrive 
at God at all ; and besides, as Sensualism confounds substance 
with the aggregate of qualities, (see ch. III.) it could recognize 
no other God than the aggregate of the phenomena of Na- 
ture, the assemblage of things in the universe. From hence. 
Pantheism, the necessary theology of paganism, and of the 
Sensual philosophy.* Let us apply all this to Locke. 

Locke beheves in the existence of God, and he has given 
an excellent demonstration of it. But he comes from the Sen- 
sual school, he therefore repels arguments a priori^ and ad- 
mits scarcely any thing but arguments a posteriori. He does 
not wish to employ the argument of Descartes, which proves 
the existence of God from the idea of him, from the idea of 
infinity and perfection. B. IV. ch. X. § 7 : " This I think, I 
may say, that it is an ill way of establishing this truth, and si- 
lencing Atheists, to lay the whole stress of so important a 
point as this, upon that sole foundation ; and take some men's 
having that idea of God in their minds, (for it is evident that 
some men have none, and some worse than none, and the 
most very different) for the only proof of a Deity ; and out of 
an over-fondness of that darhng invention, cashier, or at least 
endeavour to invahdate all other arguments, and forbid us to 
hearken to those proofs, as being weak or fallacious, which 
our own existence and the sensible parts of the universe offer 

* See Appendix, Note NN. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 271 

so cogently to our thoughts, that I deem it impossible for a 
considering man to withstand them. For I judge it as cer- 
tain and clear a truth as can any where be dehvered that ' the 
invisible things of God are clearly seen from the creation of 
the world, being understood by the things that are made, even 
his eternal power and Godhead.' " He then goes on more 
particularly to develope this kind of proofs. If Locke had 
wished simply to estabhsh that the argument a priori is not 
the only vahd argument, and that the proof a posteriori is 
not to be slighted, I would very willingly join with him ; but 
he goes much farther, and strays into assertions which I can- 
not too strongly repel. I deny that there are persons who 
have no idea of God ; and here the Cartesian philosophy and 
all ideal philosophy comes well in, and proves, beyond reply, 
that the idea of God, being at the bottom, that of the infinite, 
of perfection, of unity, of absolute existence, cannot but be 
found, in every man whose reason is at all developed. 1 deny al- 
so the sentiment which Locke has lent to Bayle, — Sensualism 
to Scepticism, — that some men have such an idea of God, 
that they had better have none at all. I deny that it is bet- 
ter to have no idea of God than to have an imperfect idea, as 
if we were not imperfect beings, subjected to blend the false 
with the true. If we will have nothing but unmixed truth, 
very little behef would be left to humanity, and very few 
theories to science. There is not a man at all familiar with 
the history of philosophy, who would reject the truth, because 
it should be blended with some errors, or even with many er- 
rors. — And in fine, Locke allows that the greatest part of men 
have an idea of God of some sort. Now, this is sufficient 
for Descartes, who, this sole idea, such as it is, being given, 
would found upon it his proof of the existence of God from 
the idea of God. I remark, finally, that even in developing 
his preference for the argument a posteriori^ Locke employs 
frequently, and without hesitation, arguments a priori^ ideal, 
and even somewhat scholastic : § 8. " Something must be 
from eternity." § 3. "Nothing cannot produce a being, there- 
fore something eternal." Although he especially seeks God in 



2:2 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

the external world, he also, (§ 2 and 3,) with Descartes, goes 
from man to God. He no where accepts and unfolds, but ev- 
erywhere employs the principle of causality, without which, 
indeed, he could never take a single step beyond nature and 
man. As to the rest, the sole conclusion, which I wish to de- 
duce from these observations, is that the theology of Locke, 
in repelling the argument a priori^ and in employing in pre- 
ference the argument a posteriori^ still retains and manifests 
the fundamental characteristic of the philosophy of Locke, 
which grounds itself specially, and often even exclusively, up- 
on sensible and external experience. 

Here ends this long analysis of the Essay on the Human 
Understanding. It only remains to generalize and resume 
the partial results we have obtained. 

1. Considered in a most important point of view, in regard 
to method, the Essay on the Human Understanding has this 
excellence, that psychology is given as the basis of all sound 
philosophy. Locke commences by the study of man, of his 
faculties, and of the phenomena observable in consciousness. 
Thereby he attaches himself to the great Cartesian movement 
and to-the genius of modern philosophy. This is the good 
side of the Method of Locke. The bad side is, that instead 
of observing man, his faculties and the phenomena which re- 
sult from the developement of his faculties, in their present 
state, and with the characteristics which these phenomena ac- 
tually present, he buries himself at once in the obscure and 
perilous question concerning the primitive state of these phe- 
nomena, the first developements of the faculties, the origin of 
ideas. 

2. This vice of Method, the question concerning the origin 
of ideas, which ought to come after that of their actual char- 
acteristics, being prematurely taken up, without a sufficient 
knowledge of the facts to be explained, throws Locke into a 
system which sees no other origin to all knowledge and all 
ideas, than sensation and reflection. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 273 

3. And again, it is to be recollected, that Locke does not 
hold the balance true between these two origins, and that he 
lets it incline in favor of sensation. 

4. This position being taken, to derive all ideas from sen- 
sation and from reflection, and particularly from sensation, 
imposes upon Locke the necessity of confounding certain ideas 
with certain others, for example, the seven following ideas : 
the idea of space, of time, of the infinite, of personal iden- 
tity, of substance, of cause, of good and evil, — ideas which, 
as we have demonstrated, cannot come into the human mind 
from sensation, nor from reflection. Locke is therefore forced, 
in order to make them enter the human mind, to confound 
them with the ideas of body, of succession, of the finite or 
number, of consciousness, of the aggregate of qualities, the 
succession of phenomena, of reward and punishment or plea- 
sure and pain, which are in fact explicable by sensation or by 
reflection ; that is to say, he is forced to confound either the 
antecedents or the consequents of the ideas of space, time, in- 
finity, substance, cause, good and evil, with the ideas them- 
selves. 

5. This is the most general vice which governs the philoso- 
phy of Locke ; and this vice fully displays itself in the theory 
of knowledge and judgment. Locke founds knowledge and 
judgment upon the perception of a relation between two ideas, 
that is to say, upon comparison ; while in many cases, these 
relations and the ideas of relation, so far from being the 
foundation of our judgments and our intellections, are, on the, 
contrary, the results of primitive intellections and judgments 
referable to the natural power of the mind, which judges and 
knows in its own proper virtue, basing itself frequently upon 
a single term, and consequently without comparing two to- 
gether in order to deduce the ideas of relation. 

6. The same is true in regard to the theory of Language. 
Locke attributes very much to language : and with reason. ■ 
But we are not to beUeve that every dispute is a dispute about 
words, every error an error purely verbal, every generil idea 
the sole product of language, and that a science is nothing 

24* 



274 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

but a language well framed : — we are not, I say, to believe 
all this merely because that words really play a great part in 
our disputes and errors, because there are no general ideas 
without language, and because a language well framed is the 
condition, or the consequence rather, of a true science. 

7. In fine, in regard to the great theories, by which all 
philosophies in their last result, are judged, the theories of 
God, of the soul, and of liberty ; you have seen Locke con- 
founding the Will with the power of moving, "v^'ith the power 
of producing external action, and seeking for freedom in the 
will thus extended, and consequently seeking it where it is 
not, denying it, and giving it as a simple accident, whereas it 
is a proper and essential characteristic. — You have seen him 
led by the habit of investigating in every thing the point of 
view most external, most visible, the most tangible, to advance 
the suspicion that the spiritual substance, impenetrable in its 
nature, might be reduced to material substance, and that 
thought may be nothing but a mode of matter, just as exten- 
sion. — You have seen him, finally, in theology, always faith- 
ful to the spirit of his system, depending more upon the senses 
than upon consciousness, interrogating nature rather than 
reason,. repelUng the proof a priori of Descartes, and adopting 
scarcely anything than the proof a posteriori. 

Such is my definitive judgment on the w^ork of Locke. I 
trust the length of this examination will not be met with dis- 
approbation, when the importance of the work and ever}' thing 
of which it is a summary and a preparation, is considered. 
The Essay on the Human Understanding sums up for the 
eighteenth century, all the traditional philosophy in w^hich it 
has an interest, that is to say, that of the seventeenth century. 
Li general modem philosophy, and I except no school, is, to 
say the least, ignorant and careless of the past. It thinks 
only of the coming ; it is unacquainted with its own history. 
As the Ideal school of the eighteenth century ascends no far- 
ther than Descartes, so the Sensual school scarcely goes back 
&rther than Locke. It has scarcely regarded Bacon ; it is a 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 275 

little occupied with Hobbes and Gassendi; but its official 
point of departure is Locke. It is Locke who is always 
cited and imitated and developed. And in fact, now that you 
are acquainted with the Essay on the Human Understanding 
in its foundation, and as a whole, and in its details, you must 
see that it really contains the most marked traits of all the 
great anterior sensual theories, whether of modern philosophy, 
or of the Middle age, of Greece, or of the East.* 

The essential characteristic of SensuaHsm, as we have 
seen, is the denial of all the great general truths which escape 
the senses, and which reason alone discovers, the negation of 
infinite time and space, of good and evil, of human liberty, 
of the immateriaUty of the soul, and of Divine Providence ; 
and according to the times, or the greater or less zeal of its 
partisans, it openly announces these results, or veils them by 
the distinction, sometimes sincere, and sometimes pretended, 
between philosophy and reUgion. This is the sole differ- 
ence which, in the seventeenth century, separates Gassendi, 
the Catholic priest, from Hobbes, the enemy of the Church. 
At the bottom their system is the same ; they renew in their 
persons, the one, Epicurus, the other, Democritus ; they give 
an almost exclusive share to sensation in knowledge ; they 
nearly maintain that all being is material, [substantia nobis 
datiir sub ratione mater ice ) ; in spiritual beUefs they see 
nothing but metaphors ; and, beyond the senses, they attri- 
bute everything to signs and to language : after aU this, Gas- 
sendi invokes revelation, and Hobbes invokes it not. — In the 
sixteenth century, the appeal to revelation was indispensable ; 
it characterizes, and it hardly saves the Peripatetic Sensual- 
ism of Pomponatius and his school. — Previous to that time, 
during the absolute reign of Christianity, this precaution was 
still more necessary ; it illy protected the involved Sensualism, 

* Reference is here had to a rapid view of the history of philosophy 
down to the time of Locke, exhibited in the preceding portion of the course 
of Lectures, of which this work is a part. For some account of them, and 
particularly in justification of the remark of Cousin, see the Introductory 
Essay.— rr. 



276 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

and the avowed Nominalism of Occam ; and Sensualism 
dared scarcely show itself in Duns Scotus, except by the ne- 
gation of all absolute truth in itself, that is by denying right 
and wrong, the beautiful and ugly, the true and false, in so 
far as founded in the nature of things, and by explaining 
them by the sole will and arbitrary power of God. Now, all 
these traits of Sensualism, manifest or concealed, of the mid- 
dle age, and of the sixteenth and seventeenth century, are 
reproduced in Locke. Who cannot see, likewise, in the bosom 
of paganism, the precursors of Gassendi and Hobbes, and con- 
sequently of Locke, in Epicurus, in Strato, in Democritus, 
and in the Ionian school ? In fine, in certain Oriental sys- 
tems^ and particularly the Sankhyra of Capila,* in the midst 
of inconsistencies apparent or real, and of mysticism true or 
false, similar, perhaps, to much of the modern invocation of 
revelation, who does not trace the lineaments of that theory 
which, increasing and clearing up, and sharing in all the 
progress of humanity, came, towards the commencement of 
the eighteenth century, to receive its expression, not indeed 
fuU and decisive, but already elevated and truly scientific ex- 
pression, in the Essay on the Human Understanding 7 

And not only does the Essay on the Human Understand- 
ing include and sum up the past, but it also contained the fu- 
ture. All those theories, the discussion of which has so long 
occupied us, and which, as they appear in Locke, may have 
perplexed you by their equivocal character, wiU be seen, as we 
proceed,t in less than half a century, to become enlarged, ex- 
tended, and regularly unfolded by the hardy successors of 
Locke, into firm and precise theories, which will obtain, in 
more than one great country of Europe, an ahnost absolute 

* See Appendix, Note GO. 

t It was the intention of Cousin, as has been observed in a former note, 
to pursue the progress of the system of Locke, to its legitimate results and 
last expression, in his succesors, such as Condillac, Helvetius, La Mettrie 
and Holbach — The reader will of course understand that the anticipated 
results of that examination, spoken of in the future tense, are facts which 
have long been matter of history in philosophy.— Tr. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. T^ 

authority, and be there regarded as the last expression of the 
human mind. T'hus the theory of Locke concerning Free- 
dom tended to FataUsm ; this theory will come forth fully de- 
veloped. — Locke seems not to have had much dread of Ma- 
terialism ; his disciples will admit and proclaim it. — Soon, 
the principle of causality, being no longer merely overlooked 
and neglected, but repelled and destroyed, the argument a pos- 
teriori for the existence of God, will lose its basis, and the 
indecisive physical Theism of Locke's Sensualism, will end 
in avowed Pantheism, that is to say, in Atheism. — The two 
sources of knowledge, sensation and reflection, will be resolv- 
ed into one ; reflection will be merged in sensation ; there will 
remain only sensation to explain the whole human mind. — 
Signs, whose influence Locke had already exaggerated, will 
become, next after sensation, the source of all ideas. — In a 
word, you may expect hereafter to see, how important it was 
for us to throw at the outset a strong and abundant light upon 
all those questions and theories, which, gradually rising up, 
will become the battle ground of our future discussions. It 
was necessary to reconnoitre beforehand, and familiarize you 
with the field, on which we shall have so often to engage. 

I have [in former discussions] divided the schools of the 
eighteenth century into four fundamental schools, which have 
appeared to me to contain them all. I have loved to tell you, 
that each of these schools has existed ; therefore there was 
some ground for its existence. If these schools had been al- 
together absurd and extravagant, they could not have 
existed. For total absurdity alone could not have found ei- 
ther place or credit in the human mind, could not have gain- 
ed so much eclat, nor have acquired so much authority, in 
any age, still less in an age so enlightened as the eighteenth 
century. Thus, from the simple fact, that the Sensual school 
has existed, it follows that it had reason for its existence, that 
it possesses some element of truth. But there are four schools, 
and not merely one. Now, absolute truth is one ; if one of 
these schools contained absolute truth, there would be but 
one school and not four. But they are ; therefore there is 



278 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

reason for their being, and they contain truth ; but at the 
same time there are four ; therefore neither the one nor the 
other contains the whole truth entire, and each of them, with 
an element of truth which has made to exist, contains some 
element of error which reduces it, after all, to exist only as a 
particular school. And recollect that error, in the hands of 
systematic genius, easily becomes extravagance. It was my 
duty, then, at once to absolve and to combat all the schools, 
and consequently that great school which is called the Sensu- 
al school, the school of Sensation, from the name of the prin- 
ciple on which it solely rests. I was to absolve the school of 
sensation, as having had its part of truth ; and I was to com- 
]>at it, as having blended with the part of truth, which recom- 
mended it, many errors and extravagances. And in what 
way, was I to combat the school of Sensation ? I promised 
you to combat the errors of one school, by all the truth there 
was in the opposite school. I was, then, to combat the exag- 
gerations of Sensualism, with what there is of sound and rea- 
sonable in IdeaUsm. This I have done. I have combatted 
the Essay on the Human Understanding with arguments, 
which I have not always cared, by an untimely show of 
erudition, to refer in detail to their respective authors ; but 
which, I avow, belong not to me. Perhaps there is something 
of my own, if I may be permitted to say it, in the develope- 
ment of these arguments, and in the conduct of the discus- 
sion, and above all in its general, and in some sort, its moral 
spirit. But the arguments in themselves, pertain for the most 
part to the Spiritual school in its most reasonable, that is to 
say, its negative side, which is always the soundest part of 
every school. At a future day, I shall take up the Spiritual 
school ; I shall examine it in its positive elements, and there 
I shall turn against it, against its sublime errors and its mys- 
tic tendencies, the solid arms which the good sense of Empiri- 
cism and of Scepticism will frequently furnish. In the mean 
tune, it is with the dialectics of SpirituaUsm, that I have com- 
batted the extravagances of the Empiric school, as they ap- 
pear in Locke, the representative of that school in the eigh- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 279 

teenth century. It is not, however, Ancient Idealism which 
I have invoked against modern Empiricism ; for the one does 
not answer to the other; Ancient philosophy, and Modern 
philosophy do not serve each other and enlighten each other, 
except on the highest summits of science, and for a veiy small 
number of the elect thinkers. It is therefore modern Spiritu- 
alism which I have used against modern Empiricism ; I have 
employed against it in the eighteenth century, the arms which 
the eighteenth century itself furnished. Thus T have oppos- 
ed to Locke the great men who followed him, and who, having 
followed him, were to modify and combat, in order to pass be- 
yond him, and lead onward the march of science. It is not 
therefore even from Leibnitz, who is too far back, but from 
Reid and Kant, that I have borrowed arguments. But I have 
had almost always to change the form of them ; for their 
form savors a little of the country of those two great men. 
Both express themselves, as men talk at Edinburg and at 
Konigsburg ; which is not the way in which men express 
themselves in France. I have therefore neglected the phra- 
seology of Ried, and particularly of Kant, but I have preserv- 
ed the substance of their arguments. You are not acquainted 
with Kant ; one day I shall endeavor to make you acquaint- 
ed with that mind, so powerful, so deep and sharp thinking, 
and so elevated, the Descartes of the age. But the works of 
the judicious Reid are accessible to you, with the admirable 
commentary of Royer-Collard.* The Scotch philosophy 
[of Reid and Stewart] will prepare you for the German phi- 
losophy. It is to Reid and Kant I refer in great part the con- 
troversy I have carried on against Empiricism as represented 
in the person of Locke. 

I was also to be just towards the Empiric school ; while 
combatting it, I was to take up its part of truth as well as of 
error. Have I not also done this ? I have recognized and sig- 
nahzed every thing good in different parts of the Essay on 

*Oeuvres competes de Reid, avecles lecons de M. Royer-CoUard, par 
M.Jouffroy. 6 vols. 



280 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

the Understanding. I have carefully brought out the happy 
commencement of Locke's method, and explained his theories 
before attacking the errors into which the spirit of system 
threw him. Finally, I have rendered full homage to Locke 
as a man and a philosopher. I have done this with all my 
heart ; for, in fact, philosophy is not such or such a particular 
school, but it is the common foundation, and so to say, the 
life of all schools. It is distinct from all systems, but it is 
blended with all ; for it manifests, developes, and advances 
itself, only by them. Its union is even their variety, so dis- 
cordant in appearance, and in leality so profoundly harmoni- 
ous. Its progress and its glory, is their mutual perfectionment 
by reciprocal pacific counteraction. When we attack, without 
qualification, any considerable particular school, we proscribe 
unawares some real element of the human mind and of truth, 
and philosophy itself is in some part wounded. When we 
do undiscriminating outrage to the work of a celebrated phi- 
losopher, to whatever school he may belong, we outrage phi- 
losophy, reason, and human nature itself in the person of one 
of its choicest representatives. I trust that nothing of this 
kind will ever come from me ; for what, before all things, I 
profess to teach, is not such or such a philosophy, but philos- 
ophy itself ; not attachment to such or such a system, how- 
ever grand it may be ; not the admiration of particular men, 
whatever their genius ; but the philosophic spirit, superior to 
all systems and all philosophies, the boundless love of truth 
wherever it may be met ; the understanding of all systems 
which, pretending to contain all the truth, at least contain 
something of the truth, and respect for all men who seek for 
it with talent and loyalty. The true muse of the historian 
of philosophy is not Hatred, but Love ; and the mission of 
philosophical criticism is, not merely to signahze the extrava- 
gances, too real and too numerous, of philosophical systems, 
but also, to disengage from the folds of error, the truths which 
may and must be involved in them, and thereby to absolve 
philosophy in the past, to embolden and enlighten it for the 
future. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 



APPENDIX 

TO 

COUSIN'S EXAMINATION OF LOCKE 
NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 



25 



NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 



Note A, p. 12. 



Consciousness. — The fact of consciousness is the condition of 
all knowledge and all philosophy . It is " the light of all our 
seeing." The various definitions which have been given to this 
word by different writers, and the vagueness with which it has 
been used, appear to result from the difficulty of distinguishing the 
different elements which, in their inseparable and blended action, 
meike up the complex whole of intellectual reality and life ; or 
rather, in which variety the unity of intellectual life manifests 
itself. It is difficult to see the distinct in the inseparable ; to see 
a part in a whole, without confounding it with the whole. It is 
difficult, on the other hand, to distinguish without separating and 
destroying. And again, where any one element is present, and 
inseparably connected with each and all the other elements of a 
complex whole, there is great danger of confounding it with some 
one or other of those elements, apart from which it is never found, 
while yet it is distinct from each and all of them. — This is the case 
with regard to Consciousness. It is not the mind itself, but the 
light in which all the phenomena of the mind are reflected to 
itself. We know ourselves and every thing that we know, only 
in the light of consciousness. We find ourselves and all things in 
consciousness. It is the light in which we see all things, yet it is 
not the seeing itself. It reveals to the mind its various modifica- 
tions, its feelings, sensations, thoughts, and volitions ; yet, though 
connected with them, it is distinct from them all. It is neither a 
pure passivity nor a voluntary activity, though it may appear on 
both hands to partake of the nature of the modifications of which it 
informs us. It is a spontaneity, a fact. It is neither a machine 
nor an agent. It is not a product of the mind, nor an effect of the 
will. Thought and volition are produced ; but consciousness is a 



284 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

witness of our thoughts and volitions ; though the most eminent 
fact of consciousness — self-affirmation — may indeed be conditioned 
by an act of the will ; yet this reflective act is ulterior to the 
piimitive, spontaneous fact of consciousness, in which the me is 
first revealed in opposition to the not-me. 

Consciousness, considered as the condition of perceiving imme- 
diately whatever passes within us, has, by some, been confounded 
with the internal sensibility. — Reid, on the contrary, appears to 
regard it as a distinct and special faculty of the mind, whose office 
is in general to observe the operations of the other faculties. — 
This view is rejected by Brown, who seems to consider conscious- 
ness as nothing more than a general word to express the aggre- 
gate of the phenomena or states of the mind. — Many nice questions 
have been made by other writers, in regard to the discrimination 
of the sense of the words consciousness, self, and the I, " We 
know nothing of ourself," says Heinroth, "without consciousness. 
What is consciousness ? Is it the I itself ; or is it a special prop- 
erty, operation, activity of the I ; or something different, only 
standing in necessaiy connexion with it ? At least, we cannot 
separate the I from consciousness : it is found only in and with 
our consciousness, and cannot be thought apart from consciousness. 
They are therefore inseparable. Are they, then, one and the 
same thing ? Let us consider. I find myself in consciousness : 
the I is my self^ illuminated and revealed by the light of con- 
sciousness. Without the rays which fall from consciousness upon 
my self, this self would be no L The brute is, without doubt, a 
self, but he is no I ; for consciousness is wanting in him. I can 
and must think that my self might have been, and may be, without 
consciousness ; for I know as certainly as I now am, that I was, 
before I became an L"* 

These distinctions may seem more nice than vaHd. It is indeed 
true, that the words self, /, and consciousness, considered as objects 

* Heinroth's Psychologic, p. 27. His Lehrbuch der Anthropologic like- 
wise contains very interesting developements of this subject, though not 
comparative and critical. For 'these, see Tenneman's Grundriss der Ges- 
chichte der Philosophic, 5th Edition, by Wendt, Leipzig, 1829. A poor 
translation of this work has been published in England. There deserves to 
be a good one. — Cousin has likewise translated the same work into French. 
His extensive and accurate acquaintance with the history of philosophy in 
general, and of the German in particular, enabled him to make as good a 
translation as the genius of the French language would permit. 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 285 

of reflection in the human mind, are so intimately blended and so 
inseparable, that they are and can be used interchangeably, with- 
out error of thought, even in general philosophical discussion. Yet 
still there may be ground for the distinctions above made, viz., 
selfy as denoting existence distinct from consciousness, not, however, 
existence in general, but a particular, determinate, distinct exis- 
tence, a particular actual being; I, as denoting the conscious 
feeling and affirmation of actual existence as the distinct and per- 
manent subject of all the phenomena by which the self is mani- 
fested ; and consciousness, as the condition, a priori, of that feeling, 
the law or principle from which it arises, and by which the I 
knows and affirms itself, and knows and distinguishes itself from 
all the mind's representations, whether referable to the subject or 
object, to the me or not.?ne. — Certainly we apply the word self in 
common language, in this sense, to a variety of objects, where we 
do not imply consciousness in the objects, but only a particular, 
distinct, and determinate actual existence, — Passing by all this, 
however, thus much may be held as certain, that consciousness, 
and the I are inseparable. There is no I without consciousness ; 
and the eminent fact of the consciousness is the separating of the 
I from the representations of the mind, as the subject from the 
object : " Quod representatio ad objectum et subjectum refertur, et 
ab utroque discernitur, oritur conscieniia, (Bewusstseyn.)"* 

It is enough, however, for our purpose, here to say, that con- 
sciousness is not to be confounded neither with the sensibility 
(external or internal,) nor with the understanding, nor with the 
will ; neither is it a distinct and special faculty of the mind ; nor 
is it the principle of any of the faculties ; nor is it, on the other 
hand, the product of them. Still less is it a mere generalization 
to express the total series of representations, a. merely verbal or 
logical bond to bring into a collective unity the various phenomena 
of the mind. It is the condition of all knowledge : it is that in 
which all the representations of the mind are revealed to the self, 
in opposition to the not-self It is not the result of experience, 
(though conditioned by it,) since it is pre-supposed in experience, 
and renders experience possible. For there is no experience 
without knowledge ; and in order to knowledge it is not only ne- 
cessaiy that the sensibility should be affected, but that the mind, 

* Reuss, Initia Doctrince Philos. solidioris, Salzb., 1798, Part I. p, 6. 
25* 



286 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

re-acting upon the sensibility and connecting itself with it, reprC' 
sentations, or mental phenomena, as the joint effect, should be 
produced ; and these representations, as objects, when perceived 
through the light of consciousness, by the intelhgence as the subject, 
constitute knowledge direct and immediate, which, in its most 
general term, is feeling; or, if the conscious representation is 
referred exclusively to the subject, sensation ; if to the object, 
perception. Consciousness has been defined in the Critical Phi- 
losophy, as the act of referring that in a phenomenon which belongs 
to the subject, to the subject ; and that which belongs to the object, 
to the object ; as the power of distinguishing ourselves from exter- 
nal objects, and from our own thoughts. Perhaps the most correct 
description of the mind in consciousness, i. e., of the conscious 
states of the mind, is the being aware of the phenomena of the 
mind — of that which is present to the mind ; and if self-consciousness 
be distinguished, not in genere, but as a special determination of 
consciousness, it is the being aware of ourselves, as of the me in 
opposition to the not-me, or as the permanent subject, distinct from 
the phenomena, and from all the outward causes of them. 

Note B, p. 13. 

The Natural and the Philosophical Consciousness. — Reflection 
is used' by Locke in the signification of the natural consciousness 
common to all reflecting beings ; but is taken by Cousin, in this 
passage, to imply a particular determination of consciousness 
by the will. It is a voluntary falling back upon the natural and 
spontaneous consciousness ; it is an act of self- reduplication. It is 
in this sense that he regards reflection as the special attribute of 
the philosophic mind. All men are endowed with the natural 
consciousness, while in many the faculty of higher speculation never 
appears. The one is like the scales in common use, and answers 
the ends of ordinary life ; the other is like the golden scales of the 
chemist, to appreciate the slightest weight : or the one is the vision 
of the unaided eye, the other the vision aided by the microscope. 
— In this connexion, I am reminded of a passage in Coleridge's 
Biographia Literaria, Vol. I. p. 151, New- York edition. The 
reader will observe that he does not consider the power of phi- 
losophical insight to be as common as Cousin would seem to make 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 287 

it. " It is neither possible nor necessary for all men, or for many, 
to be PHILOSOPHERS. There is a 'philosophic, (and inasmuch as it 
is actualized by an effort of freedom, an artificial) consciousness, 
which lies beneath, or, (as it were,) behind the spontaneous con- 
sciousness natural to all reflecting beings. As the elder Romans 
distinguished their northern provinces into Cis-Alpine and Trans- 
Alpine, so may we divide all the objects of human knowledge into 
those on this side, and those on the other side of the spontaneous 
consciousness ; citra et trans conscientiam communem. The 
latter is exclusively the domain of Pure philosophy. The first 
range of hills, that encircles the scanty vale of human life, is the 
horizon for the majority of its inhabitants. On its ridges the com- 
mon sun is born and departs. From them the stars rise, and 
touching them they vanish. By the many, even this range, the 
natural limit and bulwark of the vale, is but imperfectly known. 
Its higher ascents are too often hidden by mists and clouds from 
uncultivated swamps, which few have courage or curiosity to 
penetrate. To the multitude Ijelow these vapors appear, now, as 
the dark haunts of terrific agents, on which none may intrude 
with impunity ; and now all a-glow, with colors not their own, 
they are gazed at as the splendid palaces of happiness and power. 
But in all ages there have been a few who, measuring and sound- 
ing the rivers of the vale, at the feet of their furthest inaccessible 
falls, have learnt, that the sources must be far higher and far in- 
ward ; a few, who even in the level streams have detected ele- 
ments, which neither the vale itself nor the surrounding mountains 
contained or could supply." " It is the essential mark of the true 
philosopher to rest satisfied with no imperfect light, as long as the 
impossibility of attaining a fuller knowledge has not been demon- 
strated. That the common consciousness itself will furnish proofs 
by its own direction that it is connected with master-currents be- 
low the surface, I shall merely assume as a postulate pro tempore. 
This having been granted, though but in expectation of the argu- 
ment, I can safely deduce from it the equal truth of my former 
assertion that philosophy cannot be intelligible to all, even of the 
most learned and cultivated classes. A system, the first principle 
of which it is to render the mind intuitive of the spiritual in man, 
(i. e. of that which lies on the other side of our natural conscious- 
ness) must needs have a great obscurity for those who have never 



288 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

disciplined and strengthened this ulterior consciousness." — " A 
system which aims to deduce the memory with all the other func- 
tions of intelligence, must of course place its first position from 
beyond the memory, and anterior to it, otherwise the principle of 
solution would be itself a part of the problem to be solved." 

He then goes on to show the nature and necessity of postu- 
LATES in philosophy, and illustrates them from the science of mathe- 
matics, in which the first construction in space, the point, is not 
demonstrated but postulated ; and that Geometry, beginning not 
with a demonstration, but with an intuition, a practical idea, fur- 
nishes an illustration of a primary intuition, from which every sci- 
ence that lays claim to evidence must take its commencement. 

" But here" he goes on " an important difference presents it- 
self. Philosophy is employed on objects of the inner sense, and 
cannot, like geometry, appropriate to every construction a corres- 
pondent outward intuition. Nevertheless, philosophy, if it is to ar- 
rive at evidence must proceed from the most original construction, 
and the question then is, what is the most original construction or 
first productive act for the inner sense. The answer to this ques- 
tion depends on the direction which is given to the inner sense. 
But in philosophy the inner sense cannot have its direction deter- 
mined by any outward object. To the original construction of 
the line, I can be compelled by a line drawn before me on the slate 
or on sand. • The stroke thus drawn is indeed not the line itself, 
but only the image or picture of the line. It is not from it that we 
first learn to know the line ; but, on the contrary, we bring this 
stroke to the original line, generated by the act of the imagination ; 
otherwise we could not define it as without breadth or thickness. 
Still, however, this stroke is the sensuous image of the original or 
ideal hne, and an efficient mean to excite every imagination to the 
intuition of it. 

" It is demanded then, whether there be found any means in 
philosophy to determine the direction of the inner sense, as in 
mathematics it is determinable by its specific image or outward 
picture. Now, the inner sense has its direction determined for the 
greater part only by an act of freedom. One man's consciousness 
extends only to the pleasant or unpleasant sensations caused in 
him by external impressions ; another enlarges his inner sense to 
a consciousness of forms and quantity ; a third, in addition to the 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 289 

image, is conscious of the conception or notion of the thing ; a 
fourth attains to a notion of notions — he reflects on his own reflec- 
tions ; and thus we may say, without impropriety, that the one 
possesses more or less inner sense than the other. This more or 
less betrays already that philosophy, in its principles, must have 
a practical or moral, as well as a theoretical or speculative side. 
This difference in degree does not exist in the mathematics. So- 
crates in Plato shows, that an ignorant slave may be brought to 
understand, and, of himself, to solve the most geometrical problem. 
Socrates drew the figures for the slave in the sand. The disci- 
ples of the critical philosophy could likewise (as was indeed actu- 
ally done by La Forge and some other followers of Des Cartes) 
represent the origin of our representations in copper- plates ; but 
no one has yet attempted it, and it would be utterly useless. To 
an. Esquimaux or- New Zealander our most popular philosophy 
'would be wholly unintelligible ; for the sense, the inward organ, 
is not yet born in him. So is there many a one among us, yes, 
and some who think themselves philosophers too, to whom the phi- 
losophic organ is entirely wanting. To such a man, philosophy 
is a mere play of words and notions, like a theory of music to the 
deaf, or like the geometry of light to the blind. The connection 
of the parts and their logical dependencies may be seen and re- 
membered ; but the whole is groundless and hollow, unsustained by 
living contact, unaccompanied with any realizing intuition which 
exists by, and in the act that affirms its existence, which is known, 
because it is, and is, because it is known." 

Note C, p. 15. 

Ideology, — M. Destutt de Tracy. — The word Ideology came in- 
to use in France, about the beginning of the present century, and 
became the general designation of philosophy in the Sensual 
school. One of the most distinguished writers of the Idelogical 
school is the Count Destutt de Tracy, to whom perhaps the word 
owes its origin. He was born in 1754. His Elemens d' Ideologic 
2v. 8vo. were published at Paris 1801 — 1804. Among his other 
works are : Traite' de la Volonte', — Commentaire de r Esprit des 
Lois, Paris, 1819, — Principes logiques, Paris; 1817. — He is the 
metaphysician of the Sensual school at the period when Cabanis 



290 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

may be considered as its physiologist, and Volney its moralist. 
From the strictness of his thinking, and the clearness of his style, 
Cousin considers him the most faithful and complete representative 
of his school. His writings are characterized by the attempt at 
logical simpHcity, and by a great talent for it. He excels in abstrac- 
tion and generalization ; he reasons with strictness from the data he 
starts from, but without much scrutiny of the grounds on which those 
data rest, or the processes by which they were furnished. His 
theory of the mind is very simple. The mind, according to him, 
is nothing but sensation, or more properly the sensibility, of which 
sensation is the exercise. The sensibility is susceptible of different 
sorts of impression : 1. those which arise from the present action 
of objects upon its organs ; 2. those which result from their past 
action, by means of a certain disposition which that action left up- 
on the organs ; 3. those of things which have relations, and may be 
compared ; 4. those which spring from our wants and lead us to 
satisfy them. Every thing thus comes from the exercise of the 
sensibility through impressions made upon the organs of sense. 
When the sensibility is affected by the first sort of impression, it 
feels simply, when by the second, it repeats or recollects ; when by 
the third, it feels the relations or judges ; when by the fourth, it 
desires or wills. Thus Sensation, according to the nature of its 
objects, manifests itself respectively as pure perception, or memo- 
ry, or judgment, or will. It is therefore the sole principle of all 
our faculties and of all the operations of the mind ; since there is 
none of them which may not be reduced to one or the other of 
these forms of sensibility. — See Damiron's Histoire de la Philo. 
Sophie en France an 19 me Steele, vol. L p. 99, for a special exam- 
ination and refutation of this theory. 

Note E, p. 24. 

Maillefs Telliamed, — Benedict de Maillet, born in Lorraine in 
1659 ; French Consul in Egypt, and afterwards at Leghorn ; died 
at Marsailles in the year 1738. He was an ardent student of 
natural history, and a man of a fanciful turn of mind. He pro- 
duced a system which for some time excited considerable interest. 
He maintained that all the land of the earth, and its vegetable and 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 291 

animal inhabitants rose from the bosom of the sea, by successive 
contractions of the waters ; that men had originally been Tritons 
with tails ; and that they, as well as other animals, had lost their 
marine, and acquired terrestrial forms, by their agitations when 
left upon dry ground. The work was published after the death 
of its author by La Mascrier, who also published in 1743 a " De- 
scription of Egypt drawn up from the papers of De Maillet." 

Note F, p. 25. 

Of Method, and the order of philosophical questions, — Although 
this chapter exhibits the most material points in regard to the doc- 
trine of Method, yet the subject is so important that a few addi- 
tional remarks may not be out of place. For as Cousin justly ob- 
serves, the adoption of a method decides the destinies of a philo- 
sophy. A system is scarcely any thing but the developement of 
a method applied to the objects of investigation and explanation. 
The history of philosophy shows that every doctrine which has 
exerted a decided influence upon the human mind, has done it by 
the new direction it has given to thinking by the new point of view 
it has taken, that is by its Method. Every philosophical reform 
heis its principle in a change, or extension and improvement of 
method. — There is no longer any question at the present day what 
the true method of philosophy is. It is the experimental method, 
the method of Observation and Induction. The problem of philo- 
sophy is the analysis of consciousness. Psychology is contained 
entire in the consciousness ; it is formed by the observation and 
arrangement of facts. These facts are the phenomena of con- 
sciousness. Yet it is by no means a random observation ; it must 
be guided, as in the correct application of the method of observa- 
tion to the phenomena of the outward world, by the experimental 
intention ; the facts are not only to be observed, that is the phe- 
nomena in their actual appearance, but their characteristics and 
relations ; they are to be classified, and the laws also of the mind 
which necessarily operate upon the facts of observation, are not 
only to act as they do and must, but as likewise themselves phe- 
nomena of the consciousness, they are to be observed and recog- 
nized. — Now a method may be sound in principle, and yet it may 



292 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

be imperfectly comprehended, not understood in its extent ; it may 
be partially applied ; and it may not take up the questions in their 
proper order. In this view we have the key to the history and 
fortunes of philosophical systems : both of their success and spread, 
and of their subsequent decline and overthrow by other systems. 
Their power is in the element of truth ; their overthrow in the 
error, the defect, exaggeration, or wrong application of method. 
Take the history of Sensualism. In England and France in the 
eighteenth century, as Cousin remarks in his Philosophical Frag- 
mentSf Locke and Condillac supplanted the great schools of a pre- 
ceding age, and have reigned nearly up to the present time. In- 
stead of being angry at this fact, our business is to understand it. 
For after all, facts do not make themselves ; they have their gen- 
eral laws, laws resulting from the structure of human nature. If 
the philosophy of Sensation became accredited in England and 
France, there is reason for the fact. This reason does no dis- 
credit to the human mind. It is not its fault, that it could not re- 
main within bounds of Cartesianism. For Cartesianism did not 
satisfy the conditions necessary to its permanent dominion as a 
system. In the general movement of things and the progress of 
time, the spirit of analysis and observation was to have its place ; 
and it filled the eighteenth century. The spirit of the eighteenth 
century needs no apology. Its best apology is in its existence. 
The age is not to be accused of scepticism, because it required 
observation as the condition of faith. The human race like indi- 
vidual man lives only by faith ; but at this period observation and 
experiment became its necessary conditions. But Cartesianism, 
especially such as it had become in the hands of Malbranche, 
Spinoza, and Wolf, abandoning observation at the second step and 
burying itself in ontological hypotheses and scholastic formulas, 
had no claim to the title of an experimental science. When 
therefore another system appeared claiming this title, it was un- 
der this title accepted. This is the secret of the downfall of Car- 
tesianism and the fortunes of Locke and Condillac. The philoso- 
phy of Sensation was not admitted as Materialism, but as Experi- 
mental. To a certain extent it really was a science of experiment 
and observation. The success of this philosophy was not due 
to its dogmas, but to its method, which again was due to the spirit 
of the age. That the experimental method w£is not the work of 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 293 

this philosophical sect, but the necessary fruit of time, is evident 
from the fact that the partizans of an entirely opposite school, who 
arose to combat the doctrines of Locke, exhibit only another ap. 
plication of the same method. Reid in Scotland, and Kant in Ger- 
many, claiming the method of observation, attacked and overthrew 
the system of Locke.* 

The different conflicting systems which have sprung up since 
the time of Bacon, do no discredit to the method of observation. 
The method is good in itself; it should only be rightly applied. 
The study of human nature is a real science of observation ; but 
it is necessary to observe every thing. No other method is neces- 
sary ; but it should not be corrupted by any system ; it should be 
applied to all the facts, all the phenomena, whatever they are, 
provided they exist. Its exactness is in its impartiality and in its 
completeness. It should exhaust all the facts. Facts are the 
starting-point of philosophy. But facts, whatever they may be, exist 
for us only so far as they appear in the consciousness. It is there 
only that observation can find them, and describe them, before de- 
livering them to induction to deduce the consequences they contain. 
The field of philosophical observation is consciousness ; there is 
no other, but in that it is necessary to observe every thing, for ev- 
ery thing is important. To fall back upon the mind, to study 
carefully all its phenomena, their differences and relations, is the 
first study of philosophy : its scentific name is psychology. Psy- 
chology is the condition and vestibule of philosophy. f 

I will here present the reader with two extracts from the work 
of Cousin before referred to, the Philosophical Fragments. The 
first is from the " Program of a course of Lectures delivered in 
1817." PUL Fragm. p. 228. 

Division and Classification of Metaphysical Questions, 

DIVISION. 

All metaphysical questions are contained in the three following : 

1. What are the actual characteristics of human intellections 
(connaisanceSf knowledges) in the developed intelligence ? 

2. What is their origin ? 

3. What is their legitimacy or validity ? 

*Fragmens Philosophiques, Preface, p. 3—5. 
t Preface to Fragmens Philosophiques. 

26 



294 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

The questions concerning the actual state and the primitive state 
of human knowledge, regard it as in the human mind, in the sub- 
ject where it resides. It is the subjective point of view. 

The question concerning the validity of human knowledge re- 
gards it in relation to its objects, that is in an objective point of view. 

CLASSIFICATION. 

1. To treat the actual before the primitive, for in commencing 
with the primitive we might obtain nothing but an hypothesis, a 
false primitive, which would give only an hypothetical actual, whose 
legitimacy would be that of an hypothesis. 

2. To treat the actual and the primitive before the legitimate ; 
for the questions concerning the actual and the primitive pertain 
to the subjective system, that concerning the legitimate to the ob- 
jective system, and we cannot know the objective before the sub- 
jective : in fact it is in the internal, by and with the internal, that we 
conceive the external. 

All our objective intellections being facts of consciousness, phe- 
nomena, we call Psychology or Phenomenology, the science of the 
subjective, primitive and actual. 

The study of our objective intellections considered relatively to 
iheir objects, that is to say to real external existences, is called 
Ontology. Every thing objective is called transcendental, and the 
appreciation of the legitimacy of the principles by which we at- 
tain the objective is called Transcendental Logic. 

The whole science bears the name of Metaphysics,^^ 

The other passage is from an " Essay on a classification of phi- 
losophical questions and schools." Fragm. Phil. p. 295. 

" When I think of all the questions that have occupied my 
mind, when I compare them with those that have occupied all phi- 
losophers, when I interrogate both books and myself, and above all 
when I consult the nature of the human mind, reason as well as 
experience, in my view, reduce all the problems of philosophy to 
a very small number of general problems, whose character is de- 
termined by the general aspect under which philosophy, and in 
philosophy, metaphysics, presents itself to my mind. 

Philosophy, in my opinion, is only the science of human natufre con- 
sidered in the facts which it gives to our observation. Among these 
facts there are those which refer more particularly to the intelli- 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 295 

gence, and are therefore commonly called mctajphysical. Metaphys- 
ical facts — the phenomena by which the intelligence displays itself— 
when reduced to general formulas, constitute intellectual princi- 
ples. Metaphysics is therefore the study of the intelligence in 
that of our intellectual principles. 

Intellectual principles present themselves under two aspects ; 
either relatively to the intelligence in which they exist, to the sub. 
ject that possesses them, to the consciousness and reflection which 
exercises and contemplates them, — or relatively to their objects, 
that is, no longer as in themselves and in ourselves, but in their 
consequences and external applications. Every intellectual princi- 
ple indeed has reference to the human mind ; and at the same time 
that it refers itself to the human mind as the subject of all know- 
ledge and all consciousness, it likewise has respect to objects as 
lying without the mmd that conceives them : or to adopt those cele- 
brated expressions, so convenient by their conciseness, precision, and 
force, every intellectual principle is either subjective or objective, or 
subjective and objective at the same time. There is no principle, no 
knowledge, no idea, no perception, no sensation, which does not 
come under this general division, — a division which includes and 
divides at the outset all the problems of philosophy into two great 
classes : problems relative to subject, and problems relative to ob- 
ject ; or to speak more rapidly, subjective problems, and objective 
problems. 

Let us unfold this general division, and deduce from it the par- 
ticular questions it contains. Let us examine first the intellectual 
principles, independently of the external consequences deducible 
from them. Let us develope the science of the subjective. 

This science is that of the internal world. It is the science of 
the me, a science entirely distinct from that of the objective, which 
is, properly speaking, the science of the not-me. And this science 
of the me is not a romance concerning the nature of the soul, its 
origin, and its end : it is the true history of the soul, written by 
reflection, at the dictation of consciousness and memory. It is the 
mind falling back upon itself, and giving to itself the spectacle of 
itself. It is occupied entirely with internal facts, phenomena per- 
ceptible and appreciable by consciousness. I call it psychology, or, 
again, phenomenology, to mark the nature of its objects. Now, in 



tide ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

spite of the difficulties with which a being, thrown at first, and 
constantly drawn to the outward by the wants of his sensibility 
and his reason, has to encounter in the process of reflection, yet 
this science, entirely subjective as it is, is not above man, not be- 
yond the reach of human nature. It is certain, for it is immediate. 
The self J the we, and that with which it is occupied, are both con- 
tained in the same sphere, in the unity of consciousness. There 
the object of the science is entirely internal ; it is perceived intui- 
tively [in immediate apperception,] by the subject. The subject 
and the object are taken intimately connected, the one with the 
other. [The subject and the object are the same. The ego, the 
/, as the subject, constructs itself objectively, as the object to itself; 
that is, the I, the subject, considers itself, makes itself the object of 
reflection. — Ep.] All the facts of consciousness are evident by 
themselves, as soon as consciousness attains them ; but they fre- 
quently escape its grasp, by their extreme delicacy, or from being 
enveloped in others foreign to themselves. Psychology gives the 
most perfect certainty ; but this certainty is found only at a depth 
which it belongs not to all eyes to penetrate. To arrive there, it 
is necessary to abstract one's self from the world of extension and 
figure in which we have lived so long, and whose colors now-a- 
days tinge all our thoughts and language, though we are so little 
aware of it. It is necessary also to abstract one's self from the 
external of being and of the absolute, which is even more difficult 
to remove than the former ; that is to say, abstract one's self from 
an integrant part of thought itself, for in all thought there is bemg 
and the absolute ; and, again, it is necessary to separate and dis- 
tinguish thought without mutilating it, to disengage the phenomena 
of consciousness, both from the ontological notions which naturally 
envelope them, and from the logical forms which, in the developed 
intelligence, repress and restrain them ; and to do this without fall- 
ing into mere abstractions. In fine, after having established our 
position in this world of consciousness, so delicate and fugitive, it 
is necessary to make a wide and profound review of all the phe- 
nomena that it comprehends ; for here, phenomena are the ele- 
ments of science. We must be sure of having omitted no element, 
otherwise the science will be incomplete. We must be sure of 
having taken none upon supposition. We must be careful that 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 297 

we omit no real element, that we admit no foreign element, and, 
finally, that we view all the real elements in their true aspect, and 
in all the aspects which they present. When this preliminary la- 
bor has put us in possession of all the elements of science, it re- 
mains to construct the science, by bringing the elements together, 
by combining them, so as to exhibit them all in the different classes 
which result from their different characteristics, just as the na- 
turalist arranges the varieties of the vegetable and mineral 
world, under a certain number of divisions which comprehend 
them all. 

This done, all is not yet done, the science of the subjective is not 
yet exhausted : the greatest difficulties remain to be overcome. We 
have recognized the internal world, the phenomena of consciousness, 
as consciousness at the present time displays them. We know the 
actual man, but we are still ignorant of primitive man. It is not 
enough for the human mind to contemplate the analytical inventory 
of its intellections, arranged under their respective titles. The un- 
wearied curiosity of man cannot rest in these careful classifications : 
it goes on after higher problems, which at once daunt and attract 
it, which charm and defy it. We seem not lawfully to possess 
present reality, until we have obtained the primitive truth ; and 
we ascend continually to the origin of our intellections, as to the 
source of all light. Then the question of the origin of knowledge 
makes a new question spring up, as difficult, perhaps more diffi- 
cult. It is the question concerning the relation of the primitive to 
the actual. It is not enough to know where we now are, and 
from whence we started ; we must know all the road by which 
we arrived at the point where we now find ourselves. This third 
question is the complement of the two others. Here the whole 
problem is solved, the science of the subjective is truly exhausted ; 
for when we have the two extreme points and the intermediate 
space, nothing more remains to ask. 

Let us now consider the intellectual principles relatively to 
their external objects. 

A strange thing is this ! A being perceives and knows, out of 
his own sphere ; he is nothing but himself, and he knows some- 
thing besides himself. His own existence is, for himself, nothing 
but his own individuality ; and from the bosom of this individual 

26* 



298 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOCY. 

world which he inhabits, and which he constitutes, he attains to d 
world foreign to his own, and that, by powers which, altogether 
internal and personal as they are, in reference to their subject in 
which they inhere, extend beyond its boundary, and discover to 
him things lying beyond his reflection and his consciousness. That 
the mind of man is provided with these wonderful powers, no one 
can doubt ; but is their reach and application legitimate ? and 
does that which they reveal really exist ? The intellectual prin- 
ciples have an incontestible authority in the internal world of the 
subject; but are they equally valid in reference to their external 
objects ? 

This is eminently tbe objective problem. Now, as every thing 
which lies out of the consciousness is objective, and as all real 
and substantial existences are external to the consciousness, which 
is exercised only upon internal phenomena, it follows, that every 
problem relating to any particular being, or in general implying 
the question of existence, is an objective problem. Finally, as 
the problem of the legitimacy of the means we have of knowing 
the objective, whatever it be, is the problem concerning the legiti- 
macy of the means we have of knowing in an absolute way, 
(the absolute being that which is not relative to the me, which re- 
fers to essence,) it follows, that the problem concerning the legiti- 
macy, the validity, of all external, objective, and ontological 
knowledge, is the problem concerning absolute knowledge. The 
problem concerning the absolute, constitutes the Higher Logic. 

When we are assured of the validity of our means of knowing in 
an absolute way, we apply these means to some object, that is, to 
some particular being ; and we raise the question concerning 
the reality of the substantial me, of the soul which conceives, 
but does not perceive itself, and of that extended and figured sub- 
stance which we call wiatter„ and of that Supreme Being, the last 
reason of all beings, of all external objects, of the subject itself, 
likewise, who rises to him, — God. 

At length, after these problems relative to the existence of dif- 
ferent particular objects, those come up which pertain to the modes 
and characteristics of this existence, problems superior to all oth- 
ers ; since, if it is strange that the intellectual being should know 
that there are existences out of its own sphere, it is still more 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 299 

strange that it should know what passes in spheres beyond its own 
existence and consciousness. 

These special researches constitute the Higher Metaphysics^ 
the science of the objective, of essence, of the invisible ; for all 
essence, every thing objective, is invisible to the consciousness. 

Let us resume. The objective problems divide themselves into 
two great problems, the one logical, the other metaphysical ; 
namely, 1, the problem of the absolute, the question concerning 
the reality of the existence of any thing objective ; 2, the ques- 
tion concerning the reality of different particular objects. Add to 
these two objective questions the three questions involved in gene- 
ral question concerning the subjective, and you have all the ques- 
tions of metaphysics. There is none which will not fall within 
this general frame-work. We have therefore satisfied the first 
law of classification. Let us endeavor to satisfy the second, and 
ascertain the order in which it is proper to examine each question. 

Let us first consider the two problems which contain all the 
others, that of the subject, and that of the object. 

Whether the object exists or not, it is obvious that it exists for 
us, only as it is manifested to us by the subject ; and if it is main- 
tained that the subject and the object are actually and primitively 
given us, the one with the other, it must always be admitted that, 
in this natural relation, the term which knows, should be consid- 
ered, as in truth it is, the fundamental element of the relation. It 
is, therefore, by the subject that we are to commence. It is our- 
selves we are first to know ; for we know nothing but in ourselves, 
and by ourselves. It is not ourselves who move round the exter- 
nal world, it is rather the external world which moves round us ; 
or if these two spheres have each their proper motions, and are 
solely correlative, we know it not, except as one of them teaches 
us. It is thereby, always, that we are to apprehend any thing, 
even the existence, the independent existence of the other. 

We are, then, to commence by the subjective, by the me, by 
the consciousness. 

But the question concerning the subjective, involves in itself 
three others. By which of them are we to commence ? In the 
first place, one of these questions consists in determining the rela- 
tion of the two others, the relation of the primitive to the actual. 



300 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

It is clear that this cannot be treated, until after the two others. 
It remains to determine the order of the two others. Now a strict 
method will not hesitate to place the actual before the primitive ; 
for, by commencing with the primitive, we might obtain only a 
false primitive, which, in deduction, would give only an hypotheti- 
cal actual, whose relation to the primitive would be only the rela- 
tion of two hypotheses, more or less consistent. In commencing 
with the primitive, if a mistake is made, all is lost ; the science of 
the subjective is falsified, and then what will become of the objec- 
tive ? Besides, commencing with the primitive, is to start from 
one of the most obscure and embarrassing problems, without guide 
and without light ; whereas, to begin by the actual, is to begin 
with the easiest question, with the one which serves as the intro- 
duction to all the others. On every hand, experience and the 
experimental method has been celebrated as the conquest of the 
age, and the genius of our epoch. The experimental method, in 
Psychology, is to begin with the actual, to exhaust it, if it is possi- 
ble ; to take a strict account of all the principles which now actu- 
ally govern the intelligence ; to admit only those which actually 
present themselves, but of those to repel none ; ask none of them 
from whence they come, or where they go, — it is enough that 
they are actually present in nature, they must have a place in 
science.- No arbitrary judgment is to be passed upon facts, no 
systematic control. We are to be contented to register them, one 
with the other ; nor are we to be in any haste to torture them, in 
order to force from them some premature theory. We are to 
wait patiently, until their number is complete, their relations un- 
folded, and the theory comes forth of itself. 

If we pass now from the subjective to the objective, and if we 
investigate the order of the two questions of which the objective is 
composed, it is easy to see that the logical question is to be treated 
before the metaphysical, the problem of the absolute and of existence 
in general before that of particular existences ; for the solution, 
whatever it be, of the first problem, is the principle of the second. 

Here then are the laws of classification satisfied ; the frame- 
work of philosophy divided and arranged : now who will build 
and fill it up ? 

In the first place, has there hitherto been a philosopher who has 
done this? If there were, there would be a metaphysical science, 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 301 

just as there is a geometry and a chemistry. — But have not philoso- 
phers at least distinguished these different parts, if they have not 
filled them up ? Have they not sketched the outlines and propor- 
tions of the edifice, if they have not yet been able to realize it ? If 
this were the case, there would be a science commenced, a route 
opened, a method fixed. — But if philosophers have done neither of 
these, what have they done ? A few words will explain. 

The first philosophers have treated everything and resolved 
everything, but it is confusedly ; they have treated everything, but 
without method, or with arbitrary and artificial methods. There 
is not a metaphysical problem which has not been agitated in every 
form and analysed in a thousand ways by the philosophers of 
Greece, and by the Italian metaphysicians of the sixteenth century ; 
nevertheless, neither the former, with their wonderful genius, nor 
the latter, with all their sagacity, could discover or settle the true 
limits of each problem, their relations and their extent. No phi- 
losopher previous to Descartes has laid down precisely and dis- 
tinctly the very first problem of philosophy, the distinction be- 
tween the subject and the object : this distinction was scarcGiy any 
thing but a scholastic and grammatical distinction, which the suc- 
cessors of Aristotle vainly agitated without being able to deduce 
anything from it but consequences of the same kind as their prin- 
ciple, grammatical consequences which, passing from grammar 
into logic and from thence into metaphysics, corrupted intellectual 
science and filled it with empty verbal arguments. Descartes 
himself, notwithstanding the force and strictness of his mind, did 
not penetrate the whole reach of this distinction ; his glory con- 
sists in having made it and having placed the true starting-point 
of philosophical investigations in the mind, in the me ; but he was 
not so much aware as he should have been of the abyss that sepa- 
rates the subject from the object ; and after having laid down the 
problem, this great man too rapidly resolves it. — It was reserved 
for the 18th century to apply and extend the spirit of the Cartesian 
philosophy, and to produce three schools which, instead of losing 
themselves in external and objective investigations, began by an 
examination, more or less strict, more or less profound, of the hu- 
man mind itself and its faculties. It belonged to the greatest phi- 
losopher of the last age, by the very title of his own philosophy to 
mark the characteristic of modern philosophy. The system of 



302 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

Kant is called the Critical Philosophy (Kritik.) The two other 
European schools, the one anterior, the other contemporaneous, 
,the school of Locke and the school of Reid, are both far below 
the school of Kant, by the inferioi-ity of their master's genius, and 
by the inferiority of their doctrines, and both very different from 
each other in their principles and in their consequences, yet both 
belong to the school of Kant, and are intimately connected with 
each other by the spirit of criticism and analysis which recom- 
mend them. If the analysis of Reid is stricter and more extended 
than that of Locke, we must not forget that he had the advantage 
of all the light which the works written in the system of Locke 
shed upon that system, and we are to beware of injustice towards 
Locke, who will always be regarded as one of the most moderate 
and sensible philosophers ; and particularly guard against being 
unjust to Descartes the founder of the modern philosophy. 

But much as the three great schools of Europe are allied in the 
general spirit that animates them, they differ as greatly in their 
positive principles : and the reason of this difference is the particu- 
lar point of view under which each of these schools has considered 
philosophy. All philosophical questions being reducible to three 
great questions, in regard to the objective, to the question con- 
cerning the absolute and the reality of existences, in regard to the 
subjective, to that of the actual, and that of the primitive, the 
weakness of the human mind, which is seen in the strongest intel- 
lects, did not permit Locke, and Reid, and Kant to bestow their 
attention equally upon these three questions. It was directed re- 
spectively to one. Locke, Reid, and Kant took each a different 
question ; so that by a fortune sufficiently remarkable, each of the 
three great questions which make up metaphysics became the spe- 
cial object and the exclusive possession of one of the three great 
schools of the 18th century. The school of Locke seeks after the 
origin of knowledge [the subjective primitive] ; the Scotch school 
of Reid seeks rather after the actual characteristics which human 
knowledge presents in the developed intelligence [the subjective ac- 
timl] ; and the school of Kant is occupied with the legitimacy of 
the passage from the subjective to the objective [the objective lo- 
gical — transcendental logic]. Let me explain : I do not mean to 
say that each of these three schools has taken up but a single 
problem ; I mean that each of them is more especially occupied 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 303 

with a particular problem, and is eminently characterized by the 
mode in which that problem is resolved. All the world is agreed 
that Locke has misconceived many of the actual characteristics of 
human knowledge; Reid does not conceal that the question of 
their origin is of little importance to him ; and Kant contents him- 
self with indicating in general the source of human knowledge 
without investigating the special origin of each of those intellectual 
principles, those celebrated categories which he established. Now 
it seems to me that in following this parallel division of the ques- 
tions and schools of philosophy, the history of philosophy might 
be viewed under a new aspect. In the three great modern schools 
we might study the three great philosophical questions ; each of 
these three schools, partial and incomplete in itself, might be ex- 
tended and enlarged by the vicinity of the others : opposed, they 
would reveal their relative imperfections, brought together, they 
might mutually communicate what each one is defective in. It 
would be an interesting and instructive spectacle to show the vices 
of the modern schools by engaging them one with the other, and 
to bring together their several merits into one vast central Eclec- 
ticism which should contain and complete all three. The Scotch 
philosophy would demonstrate the vices of the philosophy of 
Locke ; Locke would serve to question Keid on subjects which 
he has too much neglected ; and the examination of the system of 
Kant would introduce into the depths of a problem which escaped 
botli the other schools." 

[Note G, p. 48.— Note H, p. 49.] 

[These two references were inserted by mistake.] 

Note I, p. 50. 

Logical and Chronological order of Knowledge. — At this place 
Cousin refers the reader to the " Program of a course of Philoso- 
phy" for 1817, inserted in the Philosophical Fragments » The 
portion which refers to the logical and chronological order of know- 
ledge is so brief and general that perhaps it will add but little to 
what may be thought sufficiently explained in the text. In giving 
it, however, I have thought best not to separate it from the rest of 



304 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

the Program, as that syllabus, though containing only brief sketch- 
es, and often merely the annunciation, of topics discussed at large 
in the lectures of which they are the outline, may possibly give 
the reader some insight into the author's general system of philos- 
ophy, whereof only a part, and that of course under a particular 
form, appears in the special criticisms to which the examination 
of Locke is devoted. I have therefore given this Program entire 
at the end of the notes, where the reader will find the portion con- 
cerning the logical and chronological order of knowledge referred 
to. 

Note K, p. 62. 

Royar-Collard, — Origin of the conception of duration. — See 
Oeuvres completes de Thomas Reid publiees par M. Th. Jouffroy 
avec des Fragmens de M. Royer-Collard. Paris, 1829. — JoufFray 
was the pupil of Royer-Collard. To the third and fourth volume 
of this edition of Reid's works the editor has attached copious 
extracts and reports of Royer-CoUard's lectures, delivered in 
1811 — 1814. — An extended discussion concerning duration may 
be found in Vol IV. p. 347 — 426. It is too long to be introdu- 
ced in this place ; a brief view of its results is all that can be 
given. - 

The first duration we conceive is, according to Royar-Collard, 
our own. It is not in the succession of our feelings that our dura- 
tion consists ; for succession presupposes a duration in which it 
takes place. — Our duration results from the sentiment of our con- 
tinued identity which results from the continuity of our activity* 
attested by consciousness and memory. To act, with conscious- 
ness and memory of acting is to endure. — Whenever, in the con- 
sciousness of our own activity and the succession of its acts, we 
acquire the conception of the duration (our own) in which that 
succession takes place, it becomes independent of the sentiment of 
our own identical and continuous existence, which contained it. 
By occasion of our own duration, we conceive a necessary and 
illimitable duration, the eternal theatre of all existences and all 
contingent successions ; and not only do we conceive it, but we are 
invincibly persuaded of its reality. This passage from the con- 
ception of time within us to time without us, is made, in the opinion 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 305 

of Royer-Collard, by what he calls a natural induction. His view 
of this point seems unnecessary and burdened with difficulties, the 
nature of which the reader will apprehend from the criticism of it, 
by Cousin, as applied to the conception of causality, in the next 
chapter. — To explain the origin of the conception of Time, it 
seems to us sufficient to say that when by occasion of experience 
any particular succession is given, the mind, in virtue of its own 
activity and by its own laws, forms the necessary and universal 
conception of time. The primitive succession given in conscious- 
ness and memory (that is, according to Royer-Collard, the acts of 
our own will,) furnishing us the notion of time concrete, particular 
and determinate (our own duration) suffices to supply the condi- 
tion under which the mind in virtue of its own laws, without re- 
sorting to the process of induction, but immediately forms the con- 
ception of duration without us, time absolute, unlimited. 

Note L, p. 68. 

The idea of the infinite, — This criticism is unquestionably valid 
as against Locke'' s reduction of the infinite to number, his confusion 
of the idea of the infinite with that of the finite, and consequent 
destruction of the former idea. But there still remains a higher 
question concerning the positive science of the infinite, which in- 
volves the possibility of philosophy itself, considered as the posi- 
tive knowledge of the absolute and infinite, the unconditioned, or 
viewed as any thing more than the observation and analysis of the 
phenomena of consciousness. The possibility of philosophy, in 
this sense of the word, is indeed the grand problem of speculative 
: inquiry ; the resolution of it, explicit or implied, determines the 
most general character of the great systems of philosophy. It is 
a question however which we do not intend here to discuss. We 
will only remark that the position taken by Cousin on this subject, 
in his other works, constitutes the chief pretension and systematic 
peculiarity of his philosophy. It is a position certainly not with- 
out grave difficulties. Those who desire to get a general view of 
this subject, will find it in an article on Cousin's Introduction to 
the History of Philosophy contained in the Edinburgh Review, No, 
99, October, 1829. Those who have read that article will proba- 
bly be reminded, by our author's discussion, of the objection rais- 

27 



306 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

ed by the reviewer against the doctrine of Cousin, namely that 
the idea of the infinite is purely relative and negative : and per- 
haps some will consider the remarks made on this point by Cousin, 
in the text to which this note belongs, as a sufficient answer to the 
objection. The article to which we allude is certainly very learn- 
ed and profound, and written with an air of the very highest abili- 
ty. The writer justly considers the whole doctrine of M. Cousin 
[i. e. taking philosophy in the sense of positive knowledge of the 
unconditioned, and as something beyond Psychology, or the mere 
observation and analysis of the phenomena of consciousness] to be 
" involved in the proposition that the unconditioned, the absolute, 
the infinite, is immediately known in consciousness by diflference, 
plurality, and relation." In explaining the nature of the great 
problem itself of philosophy, and the character of Cousin's solution 
of it, he goes on to state that the possible opinions on this subject 
"maybe reduced to four : — 1. The unconditioned is incognizable 
and inconceivable ; its notion being only negative of the conditioned, 
which last can alone be positively known or conceived. 2. It is 
not an object of knowledge ; but its notion, as a regulative princi- 
ple of the mind itself, is something more than a mere negation of 
the conditioned. 3. It is cognizable, but not conceivable ; it can be 
known by a sinking back into identity with the absolute, but is in- 
comprehensible by consciousness and reflection, which are only of 
the relative and the different. 4. It is cognizable and conceivable 
by consciousness and reflection, under relation, diflerence, and 
plurality." 

" The first of these opinions" the r gyiew er adds, " we regard 
as true ; the second is held by Kant ; the third by Schelling ; and 
the last by our author (Cousin)." In explaining and supporting 
the position which he holds as true, the writer says : " thought 
cannot transcend consciousness ; consciousness is only possible un- 
der the antithesis of a subject and object of thought, known only 
in correlation and mutually limiting each other ; while, independ- 
ently of this, all that we know either of subject or of object, ei- 
ther of mind or matter, is only a knowledge in each of the partic- 
ular, the diflferent, of the modified, of the phenomenal. We admit 
that the consequence of this doctrine is, that philosophy, if viewed 
as more than a science of the conditioned, is impossible. Depart- 
ing from the particular, we admit that we can never in our highest 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 307 

generalizations, rise above the finite ; that our knowledge, whether 
of mind or matter, can be nothing more than a knowledge of the 
relative manifestations of an existence which in itself it is our high- 
est wisdom to recognize as beyond the reach of philosophy : — 
cognoscendo ignorari, et ignorando cognoscV^ " The conditioned" 
he goes on, " is the mean between two extremes, exclusive of each 
other, neither of which can be conceived as possible, but of which, 
on the principle of contradiction, one must be admitted as necessa' 
ry. On this opinion, therefore, reason is shown to be weak, but not 
deceitful. The mind is not represented as conceiving two propo- 
sitions subversive of each other as equally possible ; but only as 
unable to understand as possible either of two extremes : one of 
which, however, on the ground of their mutual contradiction, it is 
compelled to recognize as true. We are thus taught the salutary 
lesson, that the capacity of thought is not to be constituted into the 
measure of existence ; and are warned from recognizing the do- 
main of our knowledge as necessarily co-extensive with the hori- 
zon of our faith. And by a wonderful revelation, we are thus, in 
the very consciousness of our inability to conceive aught beyond 
the relative and finite, inspired with a belief in the existence of 
something unconditioned beyond the sphere of all comprehensible 
reality." 

In regard to the doctrine of Cousin, the writer then en- 
deavors to show : " in the first place that M. Cousin is at fault in 
all the authorities he quotes in favor of the opinion that the abso- 
lute, infinite, unconditioned, is a primitive notion, cognizable by the 
intellect ; in the second, that his argument to prove the co-reality 
of his three ideas [the finite, the infinite, and their relation] [on 
the ground that the notion of the one necessaril)^ suggests the con- 
ception of the other] proves directly the reverse ; in the third, that 
the conditions under which alone he allows intelligence to be pos- 
sible, necessarily exclude the possibility of a knowledge of the ab- 
solute ; and in the fourth, that the absolute, as defined by him, is 
only a relative and a conditioned." 

" The unconditioned," he concludes, " is not a positive concep 
tion ; nor has it even a real or intrinsic unity ; for it only com- 
bines the absolute and the infinite, contradictory in themselves, in- 
to a unity relative to us by the negative bond of their inconceiva- 
bility. It is on this mistake of the relative for the intrinsic, of the 
negative for the positive, that M. Cousin's theory is founded." 



308 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY, 

Note M, p. 77. 

Idea of Substance. Royer-Collard, — Fragments of the Lec- 
tures of M. Royer-Collard published in Jouffroy's edition of the 
works of Reid, vol. iv. p. 305. On this subject Royer-Collard 
shows : 1. that we perceive the objects of our external perceptions 
as qualities, and therefore we conceive them as in a subject in 
which they co-exist and to which they belong ; that the conception 
of a subject necessarily accompanies the perception of qualities, 
but is distinct from it ; the subject is not perceived by the senses, 
it is conceived by the mind. 2. That the judgment by which we 
attribute the qualities that are the objects of our perceptions to a 
subject conceived by the mind, is a primitive judgment, a constitu- 
ent law of the human understanding. It is the same with regard 
to this judgment as with that of causality ; it cannot be derived 
from an anterior principle without pre-assuming the thing in ques- 
tion. He applies the same positions likewise to spiritual substance, 
conceived by occasion of observing the phenomena of the mind 
as qualities. 

In examining the theory of Locke, and also of Condillac, which 
resolves substance into the aggregate of qualities, Royer-Collard 
remarks that a " collection supposes three things : individuals, ob- 
jects really existing in nature ; a relation of resemblance between 
the individual things ; the perception of this relation by a mind. 
What then are the individuals of which in this case the collection 
is formed ? They are, says Locke, simple ideas obtained by sen. 
sation and reflection ; they are, says Condillac, in regard to mate- 
rial substance, the perceptions of magnitude, sohdity, hardness. 
Thus mind is a collection of sensations, of perceptions, of recol- 
lections ; body is a collection of magnitude, solidity, hardness. 
I beg pardon of Locke and Condillac ; the affections and opera- 
tions of mind, on one hand, the qualities of matter, on the other, 
are not real and individual things, but pure abstractions which we 
form by separating in thought what is never separated in nature, 
namely, that which perceives from that which is perceived, the act 
of thought from that which thinks, solidity from the solid thing, &c. 
But if the elements of the collections, the aggregate, into which 
they pretend to resolve substances, are nothing but abstractions, sub- 
stances themselves are nothing but collections of abstractions ; there 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 309 

are no substances in nature, neither minds nor bodies. This is 
enough. But let us go on. 

The second condition of a collection, is, that there should be some 
relation of resemblance between the individuals which compose it. 
But what relation is there, for example, between extension and im- 
penetrability ? No other is, or can be, assigned, but that of co- 
existence in place. In the first place, co-existence in place is not 
an analogy, and not a single instance of an aggregate conceived 
by the human mind upon this ground alone, can be cited. More- 
over, co-existence in place supposes place and the notion of place. 
From whence is this notion gotten ? What is place ? The rela- 
tion in question is co-existence in place ; place is, then, anterior to 
this relation. Is it itself a relation? But what is co-existence in 
a relation ? Is it a quality ? Let it be added to the collection, 
and then let the mode of co-existence be pointed out. Is it some- 
thing real ? It was not worth the while to deny reality to body, 
and give it to place. But let us pass over co-existence and place ; 
our thoughts have no place, and they do not co-exist ; they are 
successive, and there is no succession but in a relation of number. 
Our minds then are collections purely numerical, additions which 
begin with life and end with death. The total varies at every 
moment of our duration, and as we consist solely of this total, we 
are not, any two moments of our duration, one and the same ; 
self is not determined until the end of the addition. This is not 
all ; we had in the former case a mind to form the collection of 
the qualities of matter ; but who is to make the collection of our 
thoughts, since the mind is nothing but that collection itself ? We 
must therefore have another mind to perform the operation, or else 
the addition, the aggregate, which constitutes ourselves, is made 
and reckoned up of itself. 

Finally : the third condition of a collection is, that the relations 
of resemblance should be perceived by the mind. It is the mind 
in fact which creates the collection ; it is in vain that things have 
more or less resemblance, — in vain that they co-exist in time and 
in place ; they remain individual and isolated for the mind, as 
they are in nature, until the mind perceives and seizes their dif- 
ferent relations. The cpllection results from the perception of 
these relations. A collection is therefore one or several general 
ideas. But general ideas have this peculiar character, that their 

27* 



310 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

object has no real existence, and the reahty of the ideas themselves 
consists solely in their being acts of the mind. If therefore sub- 
stances are collections of simple qualities, they are nothing more 
than acts of our minds, and those acts whose objects do not really 
exist in nature. Here returns the difficulty again. In commen- 
cing with the collection of the qualities of matter, we know where 
to place the collection ; the mind is still there to conceive it ; but 
where shall we place the collection of the operations of the 
rtdnd 7 

This discussion might be prolonged much farther ; and at every 
step monstrous absurdities might be deduced from the theory of 
Locke. But I close with this remark : there is nothing we know 
better than our general ideas ; it is we ourselves who made them ; 
they are precisely such as we make them, and they contain noth- 
ing but what we have placed in them. If then our ideas of sub- 
stance, spiritual and material, are nothing but general ideas, they 
must be as clear as our other general ideas, e. g. the idea of a tree, 
and as easy to decompose and to reconstruct again. How is it 
then, that we hear [in Locke and the Sensual School] such fre- 
quent complaints against the idea of substance as obscure ; and 
that they in some places make this obscurity a reason for denying 
substance?" (Euvres de Reid, Tom. iv. p. 317 — 320. 

Note N, p. 85. 

Hume, — Kant. — See Hume's Essays on the Human Under- 
standing, Essay 7th. Hume's philosophical genius was of a very 
superior order. Justice was never done to it by his cotemporaries, 
nor has it since been done in the general estimation of the English. 
In logical force, acuteness, and at the same time clearness and el- 
egance of mind, he had few equals. His [philosophical] scepticism 
was the consistent result of the principles at that time almost uni- 
versally adopted. The difference between himself and his cotem- 
poraries and opposers, was only that he was more acute and con- 
sequent than they. In the first place, he clearly and fully estab- 
lished the essential difference of the notions of succession and 
causation, notions which Locke' had confounded for the sake of his 
system, and which every body continued to confound. Hume 
showed that the conception of cause, and of the relation of cause and 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 311 

effect, could not be resolved into, or explained by, the notion of 
succession : they were two distinct and different conceptions. 2. 
He proved, beyond contradiction, that the idea of cause and effect 
is not derived from experience, either external or internal, from 
sensation or from reflection; but, 3.y He still continued to hold, ^ 
and seems not to have suspected the questionableness of, the I 
grounding principle of Locke's system, that all our real knowledge J 
must be derived from experience. Hence, 4. He was consistently 
led to deny the truth, the objective reality of the relation of cause 
and effect. He therefore explained it as a delusion of the imagi- 
nation, the result of association and habit ; as a very useful idea, 
having a subjective necessity and reality, (being held, that is by us, 
as true,) but having no objective reality, no reality but to us. 

Thus, Hume, for want of elucidation on the third point, remained 
a sceptic. His opponents, Beattie, Oswald, and Priestley, were 
entirely unable to shed any light upon the subject ; for they equally 
failed in perceiving the point to which criticism should have been 
directe,dr~x 

But KanVstruck with the truth and profoundness of Hume's 
analysis and discrimination of the ideas of succession and cause, 
and the impossibility of deriving the latter from experience, was 
led directly to question the grounding principle of Locke's system, 
and thus to discern a way of avoiding the sceptical conclusion of 
Hume, and establishing the objective reality of the relation. 

Upon investigation, he perceived that the idea of cause and ef- 
fect was not the only one that is applied to experience, with the 
consciousness of its necessity, yet without being derived from ex- 
perience. Hence, the very first position of his Critique of Pure 
Reason is, that we are in possession of knowledge, a priori ; and 
the first sentence of his work contains the annunciation of the 
important distinction, that although all our knowledge begins with] 
experience, yet it is not therefore all derived from experience. 

Note O, p. 95. 

See Laromiguiere's Lecons de Philosophie, and also M. de Bi- 
ran's Examen des Leqons de M, Laromiguiere, Ch. 8, p. 140 — 152. 



312 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

Note P, p. 95. 

See Examen, p. 109, 110 — 151 ; also, M. de Biran's Article 
Leibnitz, p. 15, in the Biographie Universelle, torn. 23 ; also, the 
Fragments of Royer CoUard, in JoufFroy's (Euvres de Reid, torn. 
3 and 4. 

Note Q, p. 102. 

For illustration, you may suppose a hundred revolutions of a 
wheel in a hundred minutes. You can then vary the two terms 
(100 rev.:=:100 min.) in any way you pleeise : e. g., varying the 
second term, you may suppose the hundred revolutions to take 
place in five, ten, or a thousand minutes (100 rev.=5 min., 100 
rev.=:10 min., 100 rev. =1000 min.) ; or, varying the Jirst term, 
you can suppose five revolutions, or ten, or a thousand, made in 
the hundred minutes ; or, varying both terms, sixty revolutions 
made in sixty seconds, &c. But the relation of this succession of 
revolutions to time, to some measure of time, is not variable. You 
cannot conceive of these revolutions as made in no time, or apart 
from the consideration of any time : it is impossible, it is contra- 
dictory. 

Note R, p. 103. 

Concrete numbers have reference to particular determinate ob- 
jects or thuigs, and are not taken apart from the notion of some 
particular objects ; as, six balls, and ten balls, and two balls, are 
equal to eighteen balls. The numbers here are concrete. But 
when we say, six, and ten, and two, are equal to eighteen, (O-flO 
+2=18,) the numbers are discrete. 

Note S, p. 107. 

Cause and Effect. Brown. — It will be perceived that the dis- 
cussion of Cousin on this subject, is a substantial refutation of the 
leading positions of Brown in his Essay on Cause and Effect. — 
Brown defines the relation of cause and effect, by « immediate and 
invariable antecedence and consequence." A cause is nothing 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 313 

more than "an immediate and invariable antecedent." This is 
only another form of resolving the idea of causation into succes- 
sion. In the criticism of Brown's theory, the epithets " immediate 
and invariable," may and should be thrown off. The sole proper 
question is, whether antecedence and causation are the same idea. 
Otherwise, the only possible difference of the two ideas is pre- 
sumed to consist, not in kind, but in degree. But if the ideas of 
mere antecedence and of causation can be shown to be essentially 
different, then no addition of the epithets " immediate and invaria- 
ble" can elevate or change the idea of antecedent into that of 
cause. Brown is therefore bound to maintain the identity, in kind, 
of the idea of antecedence simply, with the idea of cause. 

But this is a position contradicted by consciousness, by the 
usage of all languages, by every thing to which the decision of 
the question can be referred. The universality and necessity of 
the idea of cause, prove the contrary of Brown's position ; and 
announce in the notion of cause and effect, a higher than a merely 
empirical character, — give it a pure, original character. It must, 
therefore, be regarded as a IaAW of the mind, (considered as the 
faculty of knowing,) that we should refer things, so far as they are 
objects of knowledge for us, i. e., are phenomena of our percep- 
tion, to one another in such a manner that the one determines the 
other, in respect to its essence and existence. Consequently, we 
must suppose an objective connection between them, answering to 
the subjective connection, or concatenation of phenomena in our 
minds. 

If now the question be asked, how Brown came to confound 
antecedence and causation, the answer is not difficult. It arose 
from confounding the phenomenal with the pure, — phenomena with 
the original action of the mind, — the occasion, the condition of an 
idea, with the idea itself. 

It is undoubtedly true, that the perception of some change, an- 
tecedence, succession, is the occasion and condition of the mind's 
forming the notion of cause, or of the evolution in the mind, of the 
principle of causality : that every phenomenon has a cause. 

Still, the perception of a single change is sufficient for the de- 
velopement, in the mind, of this universal and necessary convic- 
tion. Consequently, Brown's epithets, " immediate and invariable," 
have no application in explaining the origin of the simple idea of 



314 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

cause ; but only apply to the use of the principle of causality in 
experience ; — to the determination of the cause of a phenomenon for 
which the mind necessarily supposes a cause, even upon ih.Q first 
perception of it, and without any successive observations of " im- 
mediate and invariable antecedence." A single experience is suf- 
ficient to awaken the principle of causality, which is thenceforward 
of universal and necessary application, by the mind, to all phe- 
nomena. But in the application of this principle to particular phe- 
nomena, the mind may err. Several or many experiences may 
be necessary, in order to determine what is the precise cause of a 
given phenomenon. And here it is that the consideration of the 
immediateness and invariableness of a particular sequence comes 
in as the result of experience, as that which is phenomenal, and 
determines us to the application of the idea of cause, to the partic- 
ular antecedent in question. 

This distinction Brown seems to have failed to perceive : indeed, 
he seems to have had no distinct idea of the principle of causality ; 
and every thing of plausible and of true in his analysis of the no- 
tion of cause into that of" immediate and invariable antecedence," 
applies merely to the ulterior question concerning the cause in a 
given phenomenon, or the application of the necessary idea of 
cause and the principle of causality to particular phenomena. 

But the truth is, that, in regard to any particular instance of 
causation, while the " immediate and invariable antecedence" is 
all that is phenomenal, all that we observe, it is not all that we be- 
lieve. It is the signal, the occasion, for the mind forming the idea 
and belief of something more and different, in regard to the given 
immediate and invariable antecedent, namely, that it is the cause. 
And this latter idea is discriminated from the other, by its charac- 
ter of necessity. The necessary is revealed to the mind in the 
phenomenal and contingent. 

Brown's whole argument — its falseness and its plausibility — 
may be explained by the simple statement, that when the concep- 
tion of " immediate and invariable antecedence" is presented to 
the mind, then also, in virtue of the mind's own law of action, the 
idea and belief of a cause necessarily springs up, and connects 
itself with the former notion. Hence, the confusion of the two con- 
ceptions, unperceived by him, as also by many others to whom 
his analysis appears satisfactory. 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 315 

Note T, p. 114. 

Reference is here made to a discussion of the doctrine of Epi- 
curus concerning virtue, page 297 of the first volume of this course. 
In the example as there given, there is however a very material 
element included, which is here omitted, the supposition, namely, 
that there is no future life. To the argument as here given, it 
might be objected, that, on the hypothesis of a future existence, 
the man who sacrifices his life upon the scaffold for the cause of 
truth, may make a very prudent calculation for his best interest. 
Still, the position that prudence is not the essence of virtue, (though 
virtue may be prudent,) and that what mankind admire in an act 
of virtue, is something more than the sagacious calculation of the 
agent for his interest, is unquestionable. 

Note U, p. 115. 

Moral Principles. — In his Program of a Course of Philosophy, y) r) 
Cousin classes the moral principles under the two general divi- 
sions off contingent miil necessary principlesj\ the former of which, 
he observe^^re not inlacTprincIpTes, properly speaking, but sen- 
timents, emotions, general indeed, but contingent and variable. 
They are referable to the two general moral instincts, — Expansion 
and Concentration. 

Contingent Moral Principles. 

The general principles which refer to the instinct of expansion, 
constitute what may be called the morality of sentiment, variable, 
and not obligatory. — The morality of pity, of sympathy, of benev- 
olence, considered merely as sentiment or emotion. 

The general principles which refer to the instinct of concentra- 
tion, or self-love, constitute the morality of self-interest, variable, 
and not obligatory. 

Fundamental principle of the morality of self-interest, in regard 
to an action to be performed : look only at its consequences relative 
to personal happiness. 

The most important general principles which form the morality 
of self-interest : 

Do right, abstain from wrong, from hope or fear of the rewards 
pr penalties of civil society ; — 



316 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

Do right abstain from wrong, fitmi hope or fear of divine re- 
wards or punishments ; 

Do right, abstain from wrong, from fear of blame from others, 
and even of remorse, and in order to gain the pleasure of a good 
c<Miscience and internal happiness. 

All these contingent general principles relate to the sensibility, 
and have respect only the individual, to the self. 
Necessary Principles. 

There is within us a moral principle which is necessary and 
universal, which embraces all times and all places, the possible as 
well as the real, — ^principle of right and wrong. This principle 
distinguishes and qualifies actions. Moral reason. 

Special characteristic of this principle : Obligation. — The 
moral law. 

Enunciation of the moral law : Do right for the sake of right ; 
or rather. Will the right for the sake of right. Morality has to 
do with the intentions. 

The moral principle being universal, the sign, the external *Tpe 
by which a resolution may be recognized as conformed to this 
princqde, is the impossibility of not erecting the immediate motive 
of the particular act or resolution into a maxim of universal legis- 
lation. — Moral casuistry. Fragmens PhilosopUques, p. 248 — 
250. 

Note V, p. 116. 

Principle of Merit and Demerit, — «« Not cmly do we unceas- 
ingly aspire after happiness, as sensitive beings, but when we have 
done right, we judge, as intelligent and moral beings, that we are 
worthy of happiness. — ^Necessary principle of merit and demerit, — 
the origin and foundation of all our ideas of reward and punish- 
ment ; — a principle perpetually confounded either with the desire 
of happiness, or with the moral law. 

" Hence the question of the sovereign good, — snmmum honum, — 
never yet solved. A single solution has been sought for a com- 
plex questicm, from not possessing the two principles capable of 
solving it. 

" The Epicurean solution : Satisfaction of the desire for happi- 
s. 
** Tbe Stoic sdutioD : Fulfihuent of the moral law. 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 317 

** The true solution is in the harmony [or connexion] of virtue 
and happiness, as merited by it ; for the two principles are not 
equivalent : virtue is the antecedent. It is not alone the sole and 
sovereign good, but it is the chidf good." Fragm, Phil,, p. 251. 

Note W, p. 118. 

Foundation of Punishment. — Cousin here refers to his transla- 
tion of the works of Plato Vol. III. argument of the Gorgias. We 
translate the passage which relates most directly to this subject ; 
it will be read with interest. 

" Publicists still seek for the foundation of penalty. Some, who 
regard themselves as enhghtened politicians, find it in the utihty 
of punishment for those who witness it, who are deterred from 
crime by its threatenings, and its preventive efficacy. This is 
indeed one of the effects of punishment, but not its foundation. — 
Others, through affectation of greater humanity, wish to consider 
the legitimacy of punishment as grounded wholly on its utility 
to him who endures it, by its corrective efficacy. This, again, is 
certainly one of the possible effects of punishment, but not its 
foundation ; for in order that the punishment be corrective, it is 
necessary that it should be submitted to as just. — ^We are there- 
fore always compelled to return to the idea of justice. Justice is 
the true foundation of punishment ; personal and social utility is 
only a consequence. It is an undeniable fact, that after every 
wrong act, the unjust man thinks, and cannot but think, that he is ill- 
deserving, that is, is worthy of punishment. In the intelligence, 
the idea of punishment corresponds to that of injustice ; and when 
the injustice has been committed in the social sphere, the punish- 
ment ought to be infficted by society. Society can do it only be- 
cause it ought. The right here has no other source than the du- 
ty to inflict — duty the most strict, the most evident and the most 
sacred, — without which this pretended right would be nothing but 
that of force, that is to say an atrocious injustice, even though it 
be to the moral advantage of him who received it, and a salutary 
spectacle for the people ; which in fact could not then be the case, 
for the punishment would then find no sympathy, no echo, neither 
in the public conscience, nor in that of the individual punished. 
Punishment is not just because it is useful, as a preventive or a 

28 



k 



318 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

corrective; but it is useful in either or both these ways, be- 
cause it is just. — This theory of punishment, by demonstrating the 
falseness, the incomplete and exclusive character of the two theo- 
ries which divide publicists, completes and explains them, and gives 
to both a centre and legitimate basis." Cousin'' s Plato, Vol. iii. 
p. 167—169. 

Note X, p. 119. 

Divine Justice, — " When I turn my eyes from the spectacle of 
the external universe inward upon myself, the divine justice is re- 
vealed to me in the principle of justice implanted in my conscience. 
I say to myself: God having made the world, was behooved to 
make it according to the laws of supreme justice ; so that if the 
external world were still more involved in darkness, and given up 
to apparent disorder, the absolute principle of justice, directed by 
that of causality, would lead me still to say with confidence : what I 
see, and what I do not see, every thing, is not only for the best, but 
it is all perfectly good, for it is ordered or permitted by a just and 
all powerful cause. 

" The principle of justice, transferred from myself to God, sheds 
the light of justice upon the external world ; the judgment of mer- 
it and demerit transferred from myself to God, affords me new 
light. ' The judgment of merit, passed by a moral being, pronoun- 
ces that virtue is worthy of happiness. This judgment being 
absolute, has an absolute transcendental validity. Now, when 
once God is conceived by me as a moral being, supremely just, I 
cannot help conceiving that the absolute principle of merit and 
demerit includes God himself within its empire. The principle of 
merit and demerit thus transferred to God as just, I attribute to this 
just and all powerful God the obligation of re-establishing the le- 
gitimate harmony between happiness and virtue, infringed here be- 
low by external causes. God can re-estabUsh it, if he wills ; he 
wills it because he is supremely just, and he judges absolutely that 
virtue merits happiness. Conception of a future life." — Fragm, 
PUlos, p. 257—258. 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 319 

Note Y, p. 121. 

Divine Government. Plato, — " God being goodness, rectitude 
itself, moral order taken substantially, it follows that all moral 
truths refer to him, as radii to a centre, as modifications to the sub- 
ject which is the ground of their existence and which they mani- 
fest. So far therefore from being in contradiction, morality and 
religion are intimately connected with each other, both in the unity 
of their real principle and in that of the human mind which si- 
multaneously forms the conception of them. But when Anthro- 
pomorphism, degrading theology to the drama, makes of the Eter- 
nal a God for the theatre, tyrannical and passionate, who from the 
height of his omnipotence arbitrarily decides what is right and 
what is wrong, it is then that philosophical criticism may and 
ought, in the interest of moral truths, to take authority from the 
immediate obligation which characterizes them, to establish them 
upon their own basis, independently of every foreign circumstance, 
independently even of their relation to their primitive source. — 
Such is the particular point of view in which the Euthyphron is to 
be regarded. — Socrates eagerly acknowledges that there is an 
essential harmony between morality and religion, that every thing 
which is right is pleasing to him whom we are behooved to con- 
ceive as the type and substance of eternal reason. But he in- 
quires why right, the morally good, is pleasing to God ; and if it 
might not be otherwise ; if it is not possible that wrong, the mor- 
ally evil, might be pleasing to him? No. Why, is it then that 
the good cannot but be pleasing to God ? It is, in the last analy- 
sis, solely because it is good ; all other reasons that can be given 
always presuppose and return to this. It must therefore be ad- 
mitted that good is not such because it pleases God, but it pleases 
God because it is good ; and consequently it is not inj religious 
doctrines that we are to look for the primitive title of the legitima- 
cy of moral truths. These truths, like all others, legitimate them- 
selves, and need no other authority than that of Reason which 
perceives and proclaims them. Reason is for itself its own sanc- 
tion. This conception of the morally good, or to speak in the 
language of the time of Socrates, this conception of the holy in it- 
self, disengaged from the external forms in which it may be cloth- 
ed, from the circumstances which accompany it, and even from the 



320 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

necessary consequences which are derived from it, — and consider- 
ed in regard to what is pecuHar and absolute in it, in its immedi- 
ate grandeur and beauty, is an example of an Idea in the system 
of Plato." Cousin's Plato, Argument of the Euthyphron, Vol. i. 

Note Z, p. 132. 

Of Language, — " Nothing leads to more vicious reasoning in a 
circle than habituation to logical abstractions which commonly 
bring you back to the point from which you started. M. de Tra- 
cy, inquires why the brute has no signs. It is, says he, because 
the brute is not capable of distinguishing the particular sensations 
contained in a complex sensation ; but as the animal could not 
perform this operation without signs, it follows that the brute has 
no signs because he has no signs. 

It is absurd to say that man does not think but by means of 
signs, unless it is added that he has no signs, but because he thinks. 
Signs do not create our faculties. They presuppose an anterior 
intentional activity, which had the power to create them because 
it willed it ; and it is to this productive will that we are to refer, 
and not to the signs which exist only as its products. 

Why does not the brute think ? Because he has no signs, say 
some. But why has he no signs ? Because he does not think ; 
and he does not think because he does not will, that is, does not 
produce voluntarily ; and consequently what he does, not being an 
effect which he can distinguish from its cause, he is always under 
the law of passive affection, he has not, and consequently does not 
conceive of an intention, and cannot attach a metaphysical signifi- 
cation to a material sound. 

Man is essentially a free force, that is the title of his dignity, 
the origin, or at least the condition of all his knowledge. There 
is activity in all knowledge, and all activity is essentially free. 
Rest is not of action, but of motion. Our true power is our \vill. 
If man did not will, he could do nothing. He could do nothing 
more than the brute, that is, nothing more than the universal force 
of nature, with the aid of external circumstances and internal cor- 
respondences or susceptibihties should determine in him, by im- 
pressions and motions purely organic. Among these motions is 
to be reckoned the primitive language, every involuntary and ir- 






APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 321 

reflective sign. If the systematic imagination should lend them 
characteristics of which they are entirely destitute, and as perfect 
as they are supposed to be, yet, considered apart and in them- 
selves, they could never serve as the means of recalling or com- 
municating thought ; they would never even be signs ; they would 
be precisely as though they were not, unless, as is commonly said 
with sufficient justness, man had not some thought to give them 
to signify ; or rather, unless he had the power of appropriating 
them to himself, and of perceiving them ; for every thing unper- 
ceived is null, and void of significance. Now the essential condi- 
tion of all apperception is internal activity. This personal and 
fundamental action is what the scholastic writers call the substan- 
tial form of existence. It is not the apperception which constitutes 
ourselves ; it is rather we ourselves who constitute the appercep- 
tion. Where the internal action is wanting, the apperception fails, 
and there is nothing for us. In vain would the animal within us 
utter its cries, and execute a thousand motions ; knowing nothing, 
because it knows not itself; and not knowing itself because it has 
never acted or willed, it could never know neither that itself, nor, 
a fortiori, any other being had produced an external motion, and 
still less that it had willed to execute it, and that this motion re- 
flected a sentiment, an idea. It is not, then, the power of speech 
and of signs, considered in themselves, that produces the miracles 
which now astonish us, and in the splendor of which, speech and 
language conceal their origin. For, take away human activity, 
and this mysterious power is reduced to nothing. Let the activity 
remain, however, let it perceive the cries, the gestures, which; so 
far as they are foreign to it, are insignificant in themselves. It 
perceives them : soon it comes to repeat them freely, and then to 
appropriate them to itself; renders them significant for the mind 
which comprehends them, because it produced them, and produ- 
ced them since it freely repeated them ; for every voluntary re- 
petition is a true production. See m this way signs invented ; the 
intelligent activity has nothing more to do but to perfect them, to 
modify, to vary, to combine them, and to make them in the sequel 
for the mind, those means of recollection, of communication, and 
even of ulterior production, so active and so powerful, since they 
are the depositaries of all the activity and of all the power of the 
voluntaiy and free intelligence, of which they are at once the ef- 
28* 



I 



322 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

fects and the instruments. Signs, language, are nothing in them- 
selves. They are nothing but what the will makes them to be : 
and in this, as in many other cases, it is a hard thing to hear the 
effects every where celebrated, when the cause is neglected, or 
misconceived, or denied. Let it be considered, the theory which 
we have combatted goes no less than to make man the product of 
language ; but the man of such a theory is nothing but a machine, 
which language makes use of more or less skilfully, — while the 
latter comes, we know not from whence. Is not this truly suici- 
dal ?" — Fragmens Philosophiques, p. 168 — 172. 

JN'oTE AA, p. 162. 

Theory of perception, — On the subject of this chapter the reader 
is referred to a very able article on the " Philosophy of Percep- 
tion," in the Edinburgh Review, No. 103, for Oct. 1830, in which 
the doctrines of Reid and Brown are examined. We regard this 
article as one of the best specimens of philosophical criticism that 
has recently appeared in the English language. It shows great 
power of thinking, — great comprehension and great acuteness, 
united with an extent, a depth and accuracy of erudition, seldom 
met together. — The writer shows that our knowledge of the ex- 
ternal world, — the qualities of matter, is direct and immediate. 
" Consciousness declares our knowledge of material qualities to be 
intuitive. — Nor is the fact, as given, denied even by those who 
disallow its truth." " According," says he, " as the truth of the 
fact of consciousness in perception is entirely accepted, accepted 
in part, or wholly rejected, six possible and actual systems of phi- 
losophy result. 

"1. If the veracity of consciousness be unconditionally admit- 
ted, — if the intuitive knowledge of mind and matter, and the con- 
sequent reality of their antithesis be taken as truths, to be explained 
if possible, but in themselves are held as paramount to all doubt, 
the doctrine is established which we would call the scheme of 
Natural Realism or Natural Dualism. — 2. If the veracity of con- 
sciousness be allowed to the equipoise of the object and subject in 
the act, but rejected as to the reality of their antithesis, the system 
of Absolute Identity emerges, which reduces both mind and matter 
to phenomenal modifications of the same common substance. — 3 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 328 

and 4. If the testimony of consciousness be refused to the co-ewrfgin- ' £ L| 
ality and reciprocal independence of the subject and oliiject, two >p Tfi 
schemes are determined, according as the one or the other of the T? t3 
terms is placed as the original and genetic. Is the object educed 
from the subject, Idealism ; is the subject educed from the object, ;1^~^ ^ 
Materialism^ is the result. — 5. Again, is the consciousness itself wfij". 
recognised only as a phenomenon, and the substantial reality of kt'^ 
both subject and object denied, the issue is Niliilism, ^^ 

i^ " 6. These systems are all conclusions from an original inter- ^^ 

'^pretation of consciousness in perception, carried intrepidly forth to (j^ ^ 
its legitimate issue. But there is one scheme which, violating the ^w a^ 
integrity of this fact, and, with the idealist, regarding the object of ^<*^ 

. consciousness in perception as only a modification of the percipient J/^ ■ • 
subject, endeavors, however, to stop short of the negation of an >i^*^ 
external world, the reality of which, and the knowledge of whose ^"^^ 
reality, it seeks to establish and explain by various hypotheses..*»«.^^- 
This scheme, which we would term Hypothetical Realism or Hyp[- ^gji^ 
pothetical Dualism^ although the most inconsequent of all systerrt^vviv*^ 
has been embraced, under various forms, by the immense majo/ity^^<^'*«-*Tji 
of philosophers." All the possible forms of Hypothetical Rea)ism,^^^^^H, 
or the representative theory, are reducible, in the opinion of the^ ^*^ 
writer, to three, and these have all been actually maintain^. ^ ^'^ 

1. The representative object not a modification ofmind^ /^ d**^ 

2. The representative object a modification of mind, dependantfor ^^^ ^ < 
its knowledge, but not for its existence, on the act of consciousness, *><-«rr^ 

3. The representative object a modification of mind, non-existent '] ^^*^ 
(Mt of consciousness ; — the idea and its perception only different^ i-^-* ^ 
relations of an act (state) really identical, A^^< 

Of the six possible systems above given, it is then shown that ^^ ^^ 
Reid held the first, that of natural realism ; while Dr. Brown held ^'"'^■^ 
the last, that oHiypothetical realism ; and of its three forms, adop- '/^*^* 
ted the third. The writer fully makes out his case, " that Brown's ^f-*^ ^^ 
interpretation of the fundamental tenet of Reid'd philosophy, is not ^^^ 
a simple misconception, but an absolute reversal of its real and 4^"^'** - 1 
even unambiguous import, — and is without a parallel in the whole ll^ » 
history of philosophy." 

The writer goes on to demonstrate Brown's inadequate concep- 
tion of the problem in question, his ignorance of the history of 
opinions on the subject, and his remarkable misconception of the 



324 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

very writers whom he criticises. In regard to the latter point, 
among other'philosophers Locke is mentioned ; and it is principally 
for the sake of adducing the passage in regard to Locke's theory 
of perception, that we have introduced this note. 

" Supposing always that ideas were held to be something dis- 
tinct from their cognition, Reid states it as that philosopher's opin- 
ion, [Locke's,] that images of external objects were conveyed to 
the brain ; but whether he thought with Descartes" [lege omnino 
Dr. Clarke,] " and Newton, that the images in the brain are per- 
ceived by the mind there present, or that they are imprinted on 
the mind itself, is not so evident." This, Dr. Brown, nor is he 
original in the assertion, pronounces a flagrant misrepresentation. 
Not only does he maintain that Locke never conceived the idea to 
be substantially different from the mind, as a material image in 
the brain, but that he never supposed it to have an existence apart 
from the mental energy of which it is the object. Locke, he as- 
serts, like Arnauld, considered the idea perceived, and the percipi- 
ent act, to constitute the same indivisible modification of the con- 
scious mind. We shall see. 

" In his language, Locke is, of all philosophers, the most figura- 
tive, ambiguous, vacillating, various, and even contradictory, as 
has been noticed by Reid, and Stewart, and Bro^vn himself; in- 
deed, we believe by every author who has had occasion to com- 
ment on' this philosopher. The opinions of such a writer are not 
therefore to be assumed from isolated and casual expressions which 
themselves require to be interpreted on the general analogy of his 
system ; and yet, this is the only ground on which Dr. Brown 
attempts to establish his conclusions. Thus, on the matter under 
discussion, though really distinguishing, Locke verbally confounds 
the objects of sense and of intellect, — the operation and its object, 
— ^the object immediate and mediate, — ^the object and its relations, 
— ^the images of fancy and the notions of understanding. Con- 
sciousness is converted with Perception, — Perception with Idea, — 
Idea with the Object of Perception, and with Notion, Conception, 
Phantasm, Representation, Sense, Meaning, &c. Now, his lan- 
guage, identifying ideas and perceptions, appears conformable to a 
disciple of Arnauld ; and now, it proclaims him a follower of Dig- 
by,— explaining ideas by mechanical impulse, and the propagation 
of material particles from the external reahty to the brain. In 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 325 

one passage, the idea would seem an organic affection, — the mere 
occasion of a spiritual representation ; in another, a representative 
image in the brain itself. In employing thus indifferently the 
language of every hypothesis, may we not suspect that he was 
anxious to be made responsible for none ? One, however, he has 
formally rejected, and that is the very opinion attributed to him 
by Dr. Brown, — that the idea or object of consciousness in per^ 
ception, is only a modification of the mind itself." 

A passage is then quoted from Locke's Examination of Malle- 
hranche's Opinion, published subsequently to his Essay, expressly 
establishing this assertion. It is too long to give here. The re- 
viewer concludes : " If it be thus evident that Locke held neither 
the third form of representation, — that lent to him by Brown, — ^i^or 
even the second ; it follows that Reid did him any thing but injus- 
tice, in supposing him to maintain that ideas are objects either in 
the brain, or in the mind itself. Even the more material of these 
alternatives has been the one generally attributed to him by his 
critics, and the one adopted from him by his disciples. Nor is 
this to be deemed an opinion too monstrous to be entertained by 
so enlightened a philosopher. It was, as we shall see, the com- 
mon opinion of the age, — the opinion, in particular, held by the 
most illustrious of his countrymen and cotemporaries, — by New- 
ton, Clarke, Willis, Hook, &c." 

Note BB, p. 184. 

Innate Ideas, — The whole system of Locke is built upon a con- 
fusion of ideas. The comprehending sophism from which it de- 
rives all its plausibility, is the mistaking the conditions of a thing 
for its causes and essence. The exhaustion of the air from a re- 
ceiver, is the condition of the falling in equal time, of a guinea and 
a feather ; but gravitation is the catise of the phenomenon. To 
any one to whom this distinction is clear, and who will apply it to 
the discussion concerning innate ideas in Locke's first book, it 
caunot but appear surprising that he should ever have gravely 
instituted such apolemique, or that it should ever have gained such 
celebrity. This has, we trust, been rendered sufficiently evident 
from the discussions of this work, and particularly in the first 
chapters, where the distinction between the logical and chronologi- 



azC ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

cal order of knowledge is unfolded and applied. " The first book of 
Locke's Essay," says Coleridge, "(if the supposed error which it la- 
bors to subvert, be not a mere thing of straw, an absurdity which no 
man ever did or ever could believe.) is formed on a so<pia}ia erspoi^tjT^ntts, 
and involves the old mistake of cum hoc : ergo, propter hoc. We 
learn all things indeed by occasion of experience ; but the very 
facts so learnt, force us inward upon antecedents, that must be 
presupposed, in order to render experience itself possible." " The 
position of the Aristotehans : Nihil in intellectu, quod non prius in 
sensUf on which Locke's Essay is grounded, is irrefragable : Locke 
erred only in taking half the truth for a whole truth." 

Experience (sensation and reflection) is the occasion and condition 
of all knowledge, but not the ground and source of all knowledge. 
The notion of space, for instance, would never have been formed, 
if the notion of body had not first been derived from sensation. 
By occasion of the former, the mind is awakened to the idea of 
the latter ; and, of itself, — ^in its own proper action, and by its own 
laws, forms the idea of space. If this were all that Locke meant 
in refiiting innate ideas, he refiited what nobody can distinctly be- 
lieve. If he meant more than that experience is the necessary 
occasion, the condition, of all knowledge, he asserts what is false. 
As to any thing else, his first book is idle and nugatory. 

While, therefore, all our knowledge begins tcith Experience, 
while no knowledge precedes Experience, it does not therefore 
follow, as Kant well observes, that all our knowledge springs /ro7» 
experience. It may still be the fact, that even our empirical 
knowledge is compounded partly of that which we receive through 
impressions, and partly of that which the understanding produces 
of itself, barely through occasion of sensible impressions. This 
we hold to be the true explanation. The understanding, when 
called into exercise by and upon the data of experience, is, in vir- 
tue of certain previous laws of its activity, itself the source of much 
of our knowledge, — knowledge which we could never derive/roTTi 
experience. Now these laws and original conceptions of the un- 
derstanding, (known in our modem English philosophy as first 
principles, necessary truths, &c.,) are sometimes called constituent 
forms of the understanding, and knowledge a priori. 

" They are called constituent, says Coleridge, because they are 
not acquired by the understanding, but they are impUed in its con. 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 327 

stitution. As rationally might a circle be said to acquire a centre 
and circumference, as the understanding to acquire these, its inhe- 
rent ybrww, or ways of conceiving. This is what Leibnitz meant, 
when, to the old adage of the Peripatetics : nihil in intellectu, quod 
non prius in sensu, — he replied : prceter intellectum ipsum" 

They are also, we have said, called knowledge a priori, — " This 
phrase," as Coleridge remarks, " is in common most grossly mis- 
understood. By knowledge a priori^ we do not mean that we can 
know any thing previously to experience, which would be a con- 
tradiction in terms ; but that, having once known by occasion of 
experience, (i. e. something acting upon us from without,) we then 
know that it must have pre-existed, or the experience itself would 
have been impossible. By experience only, I know that I have 
eyes ; but then my reason convinces me that I must have had 
eyes, in order to the experience." 

Note CC, p. 191. 

Coincidence of Lord Bacon and Plato, — The remark concern- 
ing Bacon, requires some explanation for those who are accus- 
tomed to consider Bacon as really the father of the Sensual school, 
in the sense of being strictly and exclusively Empirical, and op- 
posed to all a priori principles of investigation and knowledge. 
Amidst the many common-places about Bacon, and the Inductive 
philosophy, and the Experimental method, which have obtained 
currency and popular credence, an erroneous impression has been 
taken up, as if there was a radical opposition between Bacon and 
the elder philosophy, and Plato in particular. For the correction 
of this erroneous opinion, we refer the reader to Coleridge's Friend, 
Essay 8th, p. 204, Lond. edition ; also. Essay 5th, p. 166, note ; — 
where it is shown that the doctrine of the Novum Organum agrees 
in all essential points with the true doctrine of Plato, that " the 
distinction between Plato and Lord Bacon is simply this : that 
philosophy being necessarily bi-polar, Plato treats principally of 
the truth as it manifests itself at the ideal pole, as the science of 
intellect (i. e., de mundo intelligibili) ; while Bacon confines him- 
self, for the most part, to the same truth as it is manifested at the 
other, or material pole, as the science of nature (i. e., de mundo 



328 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

sensibili) : — that a Law and an Idea are correlative terms, and 
differ only as object and subject, as being and truth." 

T%e true sense of cogito, ergo sum. — [The following extract from 
Cousin's Philosophical Fragments, relates to page 200, and was 
by mistake referred to this note.] 

Referring to Stewart's remarks on this celebrated enthymeme 
of Descartes, and on the petiiio principii with which he has been 
charged. Cousin observes that " Stewart is correct ; Descartes did 
not mean to indicate a process of logical deduction by his ergo. 
He knew that he did not reason ; and he declares it expressly. 
He knew the intellectual process which reveals our personal ex- 
istence to ourselves ; and he describes it with as much or more 
precision than any of his adversaries. This process is not, ac- 
cording to Descartes, reasoning, but reason itself, one of those 
pure, immediate, and absolute conceptions which, a century after 
Descartes, were rendered celebrated by Reid and Kant, under the 
title of Constituent principles of the human mind, and intellectual 
categories. 

Before Spinoza and Reid, Gassendi had attacked the enthy- 
meme of Descartes. " The proposition, / think, therefore I am, 
supposes," says Gassendi, " this major : that which thinks, exists ; 
and consequently involves a begging of the question." To this 
Descartes replies : " I do not beg the question, for I do not suppose 
any major. I maintain that the proposition : I think, therefore I 
exist, is a particular truth, which is introduced into the mind with- 
out recourse to any more general truth, and independently of any 
logical deduction. It is not a prejudice, but a natural judgment, 
which at once and irresistibly strikes the intelligence." "The 
notion of existence," says he, in his reply to other objections, " is 
a primitive notion, not obtained by any syllogism, but evident in 
itself; and the mind discovers it by intuition." — Reasoning does 
not logically deduce existence from thought ; but the mind cannot 
think without knowing itself, because being is given in and under 
thought : cogito, ergo sum. The certainty of thinking does not go 
before the certainty of existence ; it contains and envelopes it : 
they are two contemporaneous verities blended in one fundamental 
verity. This fundamental, complex verity is the sole principle of 
the Cartesian philosophy." — Fragmens Fhilos., 314 — 321. 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 329 

Note DD, p. 233. 

Leibnitz. Faith and Reason. — The following passage is from 
the Nouveaux Essais of Leibnitz. It is curious and interesting. 
" I find something to remark on your [Locke's] definition of that 
which is above reason, at least if you take the received usage of 
this word ; for it seems to me, that, from the manner in which that 
definition is framed, it goes too far on one side. — I approve very 
strongly of your disposition to found faith in reason ; for without 
this, why should we prefer the Bible to the Koran, or to the sa- 
cred books of the Bramins ? This is recognized by theologians 
and other learned men ; and hence it is, that we have such ex- 
cellent treatises on the truth of the Christian religion, and so many 
fine arguments put out against the pagans and other infidels, an- 
cient and modern. Hence, also, enlightened men have always 
held as suspicious, those persons who have pretended that it is not 
necessary to put one's self to the trouble of reasons and proofs, 
when the question is about believing ; a thing impossible, in fact, 
unless believing signify reciting or repeating, and then letting pass 
away, without troubling ourselves to understand, which many 
persons do, and which is also characteristic of some nations more 
than of others. This is why some Aristotelian philosophers of 
the 15th and 16th centuries, wishing to maintain two contrary 
truths, the one philosophical, the other theological, were rightly 
opposed by the last Lateran council, under Leo X. A similar 
dispute formerly arose at Helmstadt, between Hoffman, the theo- 
logian, and Martin, the philosopher ; but with this difference, that 
the philosopher would conciliate philosophy with religion, while 
the theologian wished to reject the use of it. But the founder of 
the university, the Duke Julius, decided in favor of philosophy. It 
is fact, indeed, that in our times, a person of the highest eminence 
has declared, in respect to articles of faith, that it was necessary 
to shut the eyes in order to see clearly ; and Tertullian says some- 
where, this is impossible, therefore it is true ; it is to be believed, 
for it is an absurdity. But if the intention of those who express 
themselves in this way, is good, the expressions themselves are 
extravagant, and may do hurt. — Faith is grounded on the motives 
to belief, and on the internal grace which determines the mind 
immediately. It must be allowed that there are many judgments 

29 



330 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

more evident than those which depend on these grounds or mo- 
tives of credibihty. Some are further advanced in a knowledge of 
them than others, and there are many persons even, who have never 
known, and still less weighed, and consequently have not any thing 
that can be called the [external] ground, or evidence of their faith. 
But the internal grace of the Holy Spirit supplies it immediately. ^It 
is true that God never gives it, but where the faith which it produ- 
ces is in something that is really grounded in reason, otherwise he 
would destroy the means of knowledge ; but it is not necessary 
that all those who have this divine faith should know those reasons 
or evidences, and still less that they should have them always be- 
fore their eyes ; for in such a case, feeble minded persons and idi- 
ots could never have true faith, and the most enlightened would 
not have it when they might stand most in need of it, for they 
could not always recollect the reasons for believing. — The ques- 
tion of the use of reason in theology has been greatly agitated, as 
much between the Socinians and the Catholics, as between the 
Reformed and the Lutherans. — We may say that the Socinians 
go too far in rejecting every thing that is not conformed to the or- 
der of nature, even when they cannot prove its impossibility ; but 
their adversaries go too far in sometimes urging mysteries to the 
borders of contradiction, by which they injure the truth they wish 
to defen;!. — How can faith establish any thing that overthrows a 
principle, without which all belief, affirmation, or denial, would be 
vain ? But it seems to me there still remains a question, which the 
authors of whom I speak have not sufficiently examined. It is this ; 
Suppose that on the one hand we have the literal sense of a pas. 
sage of Scripture, and on the other a great appearance of logical 
impossibility, or, at least, of acknowledged physical impossibility ; 
is it more reasonable to hold to the literal sense, or to the philo- 
sophical principle ? It is certain that there are passages in which 
we have no hesitation in departing from the literal sense, as when, 
&c. — It is here that the rules of interpretation come in. — The two 
authors of whom I speak, (Musaeus and Videlius,) still dispute 
concerning the attempt of Kekerman to demonstrate the Trinity 
by reason, as Raymond Lully had attempted before. But Mu- 
saeus acknowledges with great fairness, that if the demonstration 
of the reformed author had been good and sound, he should have 
had nothing to say ; and that the author would have been right in 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 331 

maintaining that the light of the Holy Spirit could be increased by- 
philosophy." 

Note EE, p. 235. 

See Introduction to the History of Philosophy, translated by 
Linberg, Lect. 6. — On this subject Fenelon has the follov^ing ex- 
quisite passage : Existence of God, Part I. ch. IV. Of Human 
Reason. " In truth, my reason is in me, for it is necessary that I 
should continually turn inward upon myself in order to find it ; 
but the higher reason, which corrects me when I need it, and 
which I consult, is not my own, it does not make a part of myself. 
Thus, that which might seem the most our own, and to be the 
very foundation of our being, I mean our reason, is that which 
least belongs to us, which we are to believe the most borrowed. 
We receive continually, and at every moment, a reason superior 
to ourselves, as we continually breathe an air which is not of our- 
selves ; or, as we constantly see the objects around us by the Hght 
of the sun, whose rays do not belong to our eyes. — There is an 
internal school, where man receives what he can neither acquire 
himself, nor learn from other men who live by alms like himself. 
Where is this perfect reason which is so near me, and yet so dis- 
tinct and different from me ? Where is this Supreme reason ? Is 
it not God himself, the being for whom I am inquiring ?" — This is 
beautiful. See also Bossuet, Introduction to Philosophy, ch. IV. 
sect. 5 — 9 ; and the entire system of Malebranche, whose " Vision 
in God" comes to the same thmg. 

Note FF, p. 237. 

Impersonality of Reason. Inspiration. — " Such is the original 
fact of affirmation, anterior to all reflection and without any nega- 
tion ; it is this fact which the human race have called inspiration. 
Inspiration is, in all languages, distinguished from reflection ; it is 
the perception of truth, (I mean, of essential and fundamental 
truths) without the intervention of volition and of individual per- 
sonality. Inspiration belongs not to us. We are but simple spec- 
tators of the fact ; we are not agents ; at least, all our agency 
consists in being made conscious of what passes in our view ; in 



332 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

this, there is, doubtless, already some activity ; but it is not an ac- 
tivity reflected upon, voluntary, and personal. The characteristic 
mark of inspiration is enthusiasm ; it is accompanied with that 
forcible emotion, which bears the soul away from its ordinary 
and subaltern state, and disengages from it, the sublime and 
godlike portion of its nature : 

Est Deus, in nobis, agitante calescimus illo. 

In effect, when man is conscious of the wondrous fact of inspira- 
tion and enthusiasm, and feels himself unable to refer it to himself, 
he refers it to God ; and gives to this original and pure affirmation 
the name of revelation. Is the human race wrong ? When man? 
conscious of his feeble intervention in the fact of inspiration, re- 
fers to God the truths which he has not made, and which rule 
over him, — does he deceive himself? No, certainly not ; for what 
is God 1 I have told you ; he is thought in itself, with its funda- 
mental momenta; he is eternal reason, the substance and the 
cause of the truths which man perceives. When man therefore 
refers to God that truth which he cannot refer either to this world, 
or to his own personality, he refers it to Him to whom he ought 
to refer it : and the absolute affirmation of truth, without reflection 
— inspiration — enthusiasm, is veritable revelation. This is the rea- 
son why in the cradle of civilization, the man who, in a higher de- 
gree than his fellow creatures, possesses the marvellous gift of in- 
spiration, passes in their sight, for the trusted friend and interpreter 
of God. He is so, in respect to others, because he is so in re- 
spect to himself; and he is so in respect to himself, because in a 
philosophic sense, he is so in fact : and this is the sacred origin 
of prophecies, pontificates, and of religious rites." Introduction 
to the History of Philosophy, Lect. 6. p. 165, Am. Ed. 

Note GG, p. 240. 

«* I am happy" says Cousin at this place, " to confirm an opinion 
so dear to me by the greatest authority that I recognize among the 
moderns, that of Leibnitz. The following is his reply on this point 
to Locke : * the justice you would do to the human race does not turn 
to its credit ; for men would be much more excusable in following 
their opinions sincerely, than in counterfeiting them from motives 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 333 

of interest. Perhaps however there is more sincerity in point of fact 
than you seem to accord ; for without any knowledge of the cause, 
they may have come to exercise an implicit faith by submitting 
themselves generally and sometimes blindly, but always in good 
faith, to the judgment of others whose authority they have once 
recognized. It is true that the advantage they may find in it 
may contribute something to producing this submission ; but this 
may not prevent their opinions being heartily entertained." 

Note HH, p. 241. 

The reader is referred to Vol. I. of the course of Lectures of 
which this work forms a part, Lect. 8th for a view of Grecian 
philosophy from the time of Plato and Aristotle to the Alexandri- 
an school. 

Note II, p. 248. 

" Thus, to explain my position by a common example, to have 
the eyes open before a book of mathematics ; to perceive the im- 
pression of the characters ; to be affected by 'all the sensations 
which come from the presence of the book, is a condition and even 
an indispensable preliminary, of the mind's discovering the intel- 
lectual and mathematical sense contained in it. Moreover it is 
necessary that the voluntary activity, which is profoundly distinct 
from the sensibility, should add itself to it, and direct itself to the 
pages placed before the eyes ; it is necessary that the attention, 
wakeful and strict, should remove the diverse sensations, images, 
ideas, all the distractions which may interpose between the mind 
and the book ; as soon as the eye ceases to see, and the attention 
fails, the mind pauses and ceases to comprehend. To feel and to 
will, are therefore necessary in order to comprehend ; but while 
admitting the necessity of the second condition as well as the first, 
it is not necessary to believe that the will is any thing else than the 
condition of intelligence, that it is the principle of it ; this would 
be, it is true, a very common confusion, but not very philosophical. 
The fact of the perception of the truth is veiled beneath the more 
apparent facts of sensation and volition, and the more easily con- 
ceals itself from the consciousness as it is more intimate to it : but 

29* 



334 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

this fact is not the less real ; it even contains the most elevated 
part of human nature. The understanding is a special faculty 
vi^hich has its principle only in itself, even as the will and the sen- 
sibility. To judge of the true and the false, of right and wrong, 
are acts which have nothing to be confounded with those of the 
will, although a voluntary and free being alone can perform them. 
I will, or I do not will, I give my attention or do not give it ; here 
all is in my power, and nothing takes place but at my pleasure : 
but it is not so in regard to judgment. Undoubtedly, I can judge, 
or not judge, in this sense, that I can fulfil, or not, the fundamental 
condition of all judgment, namely attention. But as soon as this 
condition is fulfilled, then appears a fact different from the former, 
and whose characteristics are altogether opposite ; the first is 
free, the second is not. Thie second fact, undecomposable and 
simple, is the perception of truth ; a perception that is irresistible, 
whose light breaks upon the mind necessarily, whenever we free* 
ly place ourselves in a state to perceive. Thus, to recur to the 
example already employed, every man is free to study or not to 
study Arithmetic, that is, to direct or not to direct his attention to 
this subject ; some do it, others do not ; but as soon as one directs 
his attention to this matter, and has studied it sufficiently, it is then 
certain that he perceives various relations of numbers. We do not 
make these relations ; for they would then vary at the caprice of the 
will that' made them ; consequently the will does not intervene in 
their perception : we do not make them, we say ; we do not con- 
stitute, we perceive them." Fragmens Philosophiques p. 32 — 34. 

Note JJ, p. 251. 

[Inserted by mistake.] 

Note KK, p. 258. 

Doctrine concerning the Will and Freedom, — In this discussion, 
Cousin presumes the Freedom of the Will, in opposition to the doc- 
trine of Philosophical Necessity, as maintained by many English 
and American philosophers and theologians. This is obvious 
throughout, and particularly from his definition of Liberty, as re- 
ferring to « those acts which we perform with the consciousness of 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 335 

doing them, and of being able not to do them," at the same time. — 
By this, he obviously does not mean to assert, — and he does not 
think it necessary to say that he does not, — that this consciousness 
always and necessarily accompanies the act of the will at the mo- ■ 
ment of its performance ; because we may sometimes not reflect 
at all about it. But that such a conviction is inseparable from 
every free act, is apparent to every one who will reflect j that is, 
observe his consciousness. 

It may be doubted whether Cousin has rightly taken up Locke 
on one part of this subject. Though the system of Locke involves 
the necessarian scheme of the will, and in strict logical consistency 
results in the destruction of freedom ; yet Locke's denial of free- 
dom to the will, can in propriety be made only a verbal question : 
for what he denies to the willf he expressly attributes to man. No- 
thing, therefore, in regard to the question concerning Liberty and 
Necessity, in the ordinary sense of these terms, can be argued 
from the distinction made by Locke. The proper question is, 
whether that kind of liberty which Locke attributes to man [and 
not to his will] is Necessarianism or Self-determination. 

It may be doubted, also, whether the process of voluntary ac- 
tion, as described by Cousin, be sufficiently general to include all 
cases ; — whether, in every instance, there is such a process of de- 
liberation, preference, choice, as he describes to be the condition 
and antecedent of the pure act of willing. This, however, will 
invaHdate neither the general conclusion that liberty is to be sought 
for in the Will, and not in the Sense nor Intellect, nor his subse- 
quent reasoning ; because the act of willing, to which liberty will 
not be denied, if it is allowed or pretended any where, is an ele- 
ment of universal consciousness in the complex process of action ; 
whether the limits where necessity ceases and liberty begins, be 
made a little too broad or too narrow ; and of course necessari- 
ans, while making the whole complex process necessary, cannot 
quarrel with the concession that a part is so. 

The great question on this subject, doubtless is, whether the 
will, in all its particular volitions, is necessarily determined by 
causes from without : — whether the will, in its acts, is subjected 
to the law of necessity, equally with the phenomena of the outward 
world. This is the only question of material importance. If this 
be not the question, then there is nothing in question worth con- 



336 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

tending about. Those who hold the Freedom of the will, in op- 
position to the Necessarian scheme, maintain that the will is itself 
the efficient cause of its own volitions ; — that it is not determined 
by any necessity ah extra ; that it is not subjected to the mechEin- 
ism of cause and effect. They hold an essential difference be- 
tween Nature and Spirit, — and that this difference is, that the 
former w, and the latter is not^ subjected to the law of necessity. 
They hold Freedom and Necessity to be incompatible, exclusive 
of each other ; that the Necessarian doctrine destroys the differ- 
ence in kind, between Nature and Spirit, between Freedom and 
Mechanism. They regard Freedom as the essential attribute and 
characteristic of the Will, and hold that the very idea of Freedom, 
both in itself, and as the principle of personality and the founda- 
tion of moral responsibility, excludes any such necessary determi- 
nation as is maintained by the necessarians. They hold that the 
will is a Law to itself, and not subjected to a Law out of itself. 
Like other powers, however, conditions of its action are requisite. 
These conditions are what is commonly included in the word mo- 
tives. Motives are the occasion, the condition of volitions, but not 
the cause of them. 

The whole necessarian scheme is grounded upon the assumption 
that the will is not a law to itself, but is subjected, equally with 
external nature, to a law out of itself. The whole necessarian 
argument proceeds upon the confusion of the conditions of volition 
with its causCf upon the assumption that motives stand to volition, 
in the relation of cause to effect ; and involves the old sophism : 
quod hoc, ergo, propter hoc. Now motives may be allowed to be 
the universal and necessary condition of all special determinations 
of the will, i. e., of all particular volitions ; and yet it would by no 
means therefore follow that those volitions are necessarily deter- 
mined, produced, caused by the motives. Though man never 
acts without motives, it would not necessarily follow that his ac- 
tions are caused by motives ; for the motives may be simply the 
occasion and condition of his volitions : and it would remain to be 
proved that they are any thing more. Unless they do this, Ne- 
cessarians beg the very thing in question, which is, not whether 
there is a constant and necessary co-presence of motives whenever 
a particular volition is so and not otherwise, but whether those 
motives stand in a relation of a cause to the volition being so and 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 337 

not otherwise, or only in the relation of a condition to the acting 
of the will, while the will of itself, as an efficient power and the 
principle and cause of its own volitions, determines the particular 
volition so and not otherwise. In an exhausted receiver, a guinea 
and a feather will fall through an equal space in the same time ; 
but it would be absurd, in strict language, to call the exhaustion 
of the air the cause of the phenomenon : it is only the occasion 
and condition, while the cause is gravitation. 

In this view, the celebrated axiom of Edwards, " that the will 
is as the greatest apparent good," if it be taken to mean any 
thing more (as he unquestionably did take it) than that motives 
are the condition of volition, is reduced to the flat truism, that the 
will is as the will is. 

In regard to the objections brought against the doctrine of Free- 
dom, a few words may be offered. 

The doctrine is said to involve the position, that men act without 
motives. This objection is already sufficiently disposed of. It is 
no more a part of the doctrine of Liberty than of Necessity. To 
pretend that man acts or wills without motive or reason, would be 
a contradiction ; it would be to confound the human will with the 
animal instinct, where, reason being wanting, the will is merged 
in a higher law, of which it is an organ, instrument, or manifesta- 
tion ; — or rather where there is no will, in a proper sense of the 
word. That men act from reasons, with a motive, is fully assert- 
ed. It is only denied that these motives are the necessary cau- 
ses of volition. — It is very true, that there are cases in which the 
maxim, stat voluntas pro ratione, holds good ; that is, in the ab- 
sence of other motives, the will decides for the sake of deciding. 
If a purse is filled with pieces of gold, and it is offered to me upon 
condition of saying correctly whether the number of pieces be 
equ^l or unequal, and I say equal, it may be solely because I will 
to say so ; that is all the reason I can give. It is very much my 
interest to say something ; but no interest may determine me to 
say equal, rather than unequal : and this very consideration of 
the absence of motives, may be sufficient to constitute the condi- 
tion, or previous deliberation, required in order to the exercise of 
the free will. The presence of motives is fully admitted, as the 
condition of volition. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

also ot^ected, dial mt every event mmtt have a cause, if 
mre mot the cane ifvoBiont, we have p henomena wtikoMt a 

. — Not to advert here to any higher coosideratioos which 
▼acate the oljectioD, it is sufficient to reply, that the coDse- 
qnence by do means follows. For it may be said the Will itself 
is tiie cause. The will is a feculty or power of acting, limited 
indeed, and conditkned ; but within its limits, and when its coodi- 
tkns are siqifdied, capable of acting, of determining itself in a spe- 
cial ^rectim, that is, of cnigiiiatii^ particular ToUti(ms ; and 
tfaoefioe as truly a cause as God or a {^yskal efficient. The 
will is a general power or fiucuhy of acting that is, of willing. 
VolitiQns are speaal actual exotkns of this power, particular ac- 
tnal determinations of iL Hie latter are the efiect, the former is 
their sole pnDcq>le and cause. In this view, Edwards' famous 
redmctio ad a kuu ' dmm fidls to pieces. £Us argument is, that if a 
given Yolition be not deteraoined by motiyes as its cause, it must 
be without a came ; cht dse it must be determined by a previous 
vofittoa, and that by another, and so on, ad tt^autaau But deny 
fak iufiare iioe ; lay your finger upon the given volitiQn, or upon 
any one in the series, and call upoo him to prove that the general 
fiftcohy of willing is not a pow«r adequate to the direct production 
of the given volition^ — and his reduction is at an aid, at all events, 
slopped, till he fulfil the demand. 

But what, after all, is this pretended denial of causation charged 
upoo the doctrine (^ free will ? So entirdy the leveise ci the 
iatt, is the asaon^itiQn made in the otijection, that without the very 
libeity ^Hiich necessanans deny, there would be no true causes. 
It is this alone which gives as the true notion cleanse. It is pre> 
ciaely because the free agent determines himself and is not d^er- 
mined, that be really produces an ^ect« 

There is another objectkn made in the interest of Theology, 
and which, at the present day, attaches many to the doctrine <^ 
B f U Ksri i y : that the doctrine rf liberty eomtradkts dwme prescience, 
mod certaintf m ike moraJ g ov e rnme nt of the worid. 

This olyectian is as old as Gcem, to go no fimher back, and 
may be vdl enough presented in his woids. «If the will is £ree, 
then Fate does not rule every thing ; if Fate does not rule every 
things dien tiie ofder of all causes is not certain, and the order of 
is no longer certain in tiie prescknce of God ; if the order 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 339 

of things is not certain in the prescience of God, then things will 
not take place as he foresees them ; and if things do not take 
place as he foresees them, there is in God no foreknowledge." 
St. Augustine may supply the answer : " Although the order of 
causes be certain to God, it does not follow that nothing depends 
upon our will ; for our wills themselves are in the order of causes 
which are certain to God, and which he foresees, because men's 
wills are also the causes of their actions ; so that he who has fore- 
seen all causes, has also foreseen our wills which are the causes 
of our actions."* " If God foresees our will," says the same wri- 
ter in another place, {De libera arUtrio, lib, iii. c. 3,) " as it is 
certain t^at he foresees it, there will therefore be the will ; and 
there cannot be a will if it is not free ; therefore this liberty is 
foreseen by God. Hence, his prescience does not destroy my 
liberty." The answer is certainly as good as the objection. 

In short, as the knowledge which we have of present things, so 
far forth as knowledge imposes no necessity upon them, although 
it is certain that they are taking place as we see them ; so the 
prescience of God, which sees the future as the present, imposes 
no necessity upon future events or actions, although they will cer-' 
tainly take place as he foresaw them. 

Note LL, p. 263. 

[Inserted by mistake.] 

Note MM, p. 269. 

Descartes, who presented it in the 17th century, under a form 
at once the most rigid and the most paradoxical, believed he had 
created it ; but he owed it, without any doubt, to his previous stu- 
dies, to scholastic tradition, and to St. Aiiselm. — St. Anselm was 
born in 1034, died 1109. His two most important works are, 1, 

* Non est autem consequens, lit si Deo cert us est omnium ordo causarum, ideo 
nihil sit in nostrae voluntatis arbitrio. Et ipsae, quippe, nostrae voluntates in cau- 
sarum ordine sunt, qui certus est Deo, ejut>que prspscientia continetur, quoniam et 
humane voluntates humanorum operum causae sunt. Atque ita, qui omnes rerum 
causas praescivit, profecto in iis causas etiam nostras voluntates ignorare non 
potuit, quas nostrorum operum causas esse praescivit. — August in. De Civitate 
Dei, V, 9. 



340 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

his Monologium, sen exemplum meditandi de ratione Jidei. His 
method in this work consists in deducing all theological truths 
from a single point, — the essence of God. — The difference and 
plurality of the beautiful, the grand, the good, suppose a common 
measure, an ideal One of beauty, goodness, &;c., a unity who is 
the essence of all beauty, goodness, &c. It must exist, for it is 
this which is the necessary form of every thing which exists. — 
The unity is anterior to the plurality, and is its root. Est, ergo, 
dliquid unum, quod, sive essentia, sive natura, sive substantia, did- 
tur, optimum et maximum est, et summum omnium quce sunt. This 
unity is God : from hence St. Anselm deduces the whole system 
of theology. — 2. The second work is entitled Proslogium, seufdes 
qucerens intellectum. The name of St. Anselm is attached to the 
argument which, solely from the idea of God, deduces the demon- 
stration of his existence, — an argument which has experienced 
many changes of fortune. It was much derided in the 18th cen- 
tury, but in the 17th it was regarded as invincible. The Proslo- 
gium consists of twenty-six short chapters, and has for its motto 
this passage of Scripture, The fool hath said in his heart, there is 
no God. The argument is this : the most hardened Atheist has 
in his mind the idea of a highest good, beyond which he can con- 
ceive no other. Now this supreme good cannot exist solely in 
thought^ for a still greater would then be possible to conceive ; it 
must therefore exist out of the human mind ; therefore God ex- 
ists. — Without quoting St. Anselm, or the Proslogium, with which 
he was perhaps unacquainted, Descartes has reproduced this ar- 
gument in his Meditations, Leibnitz has also brought forward 
the same argument under a form at once the most simple and pre- 
cise. He refers the honor of it to St. Anselm. — See Cousin's 
Cours de VHistoire de la Philosophie, Tom. I. p. 346 — 348. 

Note NN, p. 270. 

The following passage from the Noveaux Fragmens, Art. Xen- 
ophanes, may be interesting. 

" The Ionian and Pythagorean schools have introduced into 
Greek philosophy the two fundamental elements of all philosophy, 
namely, Physics and Theology. Thus we see philosophy in 
Greece in possession of the two ideas, upon which it altogether 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 341 

proceeds, — ^the idea of the world, and that of God. The two ex- 
treme terms of all speculation being thus given, nothing remains 
but to find their relation. Now the solution which first presents 
itself to the human mind, preoccupied as it necessarily is with the 
idea of unity, is to absorb one of these two terms into the other, — 
to identify the world with God, or God with the world ; and thus 
to cut the knot instead of untying it. These two exclusive solu- 
tions are both very natural. It is natural, when we feel the sen- 
timent of life, and of that existence so diversified and so vast, of 
which we form a part ; when we consider the extent of this visible 
world, and at the same tifne the harmony which reigns throughout, 
and the beauty which shines in every part, to pause where the 
senses and imagination are arrested, and to suppose that the beings 
of which this world is composed, are the only existences, that this 
great whole, so harmonious and so one, is the true subject and ul- 
timate apphcation of the idea of unity ; in one word, that this 
whole, the universe, is God. Express this result in the Greek 
language, and you have Pantheism. Pantheism is the conception 
of the universe as the sole God. — On the other hand, when we 
discover that the apparent unity of the universe is only a harmony, 
and not an absolute unity, a harmony that admits an infinite vari- 
ety, that strongly resembles a perpetual conflict and revolution, it 
is not less natural, in this point of view, to detach the idea of unity, 
which is indestructible within us, from the world ; and, thus sepa- 
rated from the imperftct model of the visible world, to refer it to 
an invisible being placed above and beyond the world, — the sa- 
cred type of absolute unity, beyond which there is nothing to be 
conceived or sought after. Now when once we have arrived at 
the absolute unity, it is not easy to pass from it, and to compre- 
hend how, the absolute unity being given as the principle, it is 
possible to arrive at the plurality as its consequence ; for absolute 
unity excludes all plurality. Nothing remains, then, relatively to 
this consequence, but to deny, or at least to overlook it, — and to 
regard the plurality of this visible world as the unreal and delusive 
shadow of the absolute unity, which alone has existence, as a fall 
scarcely comprehensible, a negation and evil from which it is ne- 
cessary to get free, in order to tend perpetually towards the only 
true being, the absolute unity, towards God. This system is the 
opposite of Pantheism. Give it any name you please, it is nothing 

30 



342 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

else than the idea of unity appHed exclusively to God, as Panthe- 
ism is the same idea applied exclusively to the world. Now, to 
repeat once more, these two exclusive solutions of the fundamental 
problem are each equally natural, and this is so true, that they 
perpetually come up in all the great epochs of the history of phi- 
losophy ; with modifications, however, due to the progress of time, 
but at the bottom always the same ; so that it may be said with 
truth, that the history of their perpetual conflict and the alternate 
domination of one or the other, has been hitherto the history 
of philosophy itself. This is because these two solutions are inti- 
mately connected with the human mind, which perpetually repro- 
duces them, with an equal inability to disconnect itself from the 
one or the other, and be at rest. In effect, neither of them, taken 
singly, satisfies the human mind ; and these two opposite points of 
view, so natural, and consequently having so much the quality of 
continual existence and recurrence, exclusive as they respec- 
tively are of each other, are, for this reason, equally defective and 
insufficient. 

* * * On both hands, equal error and equal danger, equal 
forgetfulness of human nature, equal forgetfulness of one essential 
side of the human mind, and of things. Between these two abysses, 
long has the good sense of the human race kept its way ; far from 
schools and systems, the human race has long believed with equal 
certainty in God and in the world." — Noveaux Fragmens Philo- 
sophiques, p. 69 — 73. 

Note OO, p. 276. 

Sankhyra of Kapila. — See Cousin's Cours de VHistoire de la 
Philosophie, Vol. L Sect. 5. The sources from which Cousin 
principally drew, are the Memoirs of Colebrooke, published in the 
Transactions of the London Asiatic Society, from 1824 to 1827. — 
The Sankhyra is an oriental system, embracing physics, psychol- 
ogy, dialectics, and metaphysics, — in short, a complete philosophy. 
The meaning of Sankhyra is ^oyoi, reason. Its author is Kapila. 
It is a system of Sensualism : starting from sensation as the prin- 
ciple of knowledge, and applying induction only to its phenomena, 
it results in materialism. Denying also the idea of cause, it comes 
out to fatalism and to atheism. Nor is this latter consequence 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 343 

disguised. Kapila denies the existence of a personal God and of 
Providence, on the ground, that not being perceivable by the sen- 
ses, nor deducible from sensation by induction, there is no legiti- 
mate ground for these truths. Intelligence is admitted ; but only 
as an attribute of matter, and the God of Kapila is a sort of anima 
mundi, or soul of the world. 



IDEA OF A SYSTEM OF METAPHYSICS. 

[Program of a Course of Philosophy given ia 1817.— From the Fragment PhihaO' 
phiques, p. 230.] 

System of the Subjective. — Psychology or Phenomenology. Of 
"the Actual and of the Primitive. 

Of the Actual. 

Of the psychological method, or of internal observation. 

Of the division and classification of human cognitions, according 
to the distinction of their actual characteristics. 

Vices of many of the classifications. True classification : dis- 
tinction of human cognitions, according to their characteristics of 
contingence or of necessity. 

Theory of contingent principles. It is necessary to range un- 
der the class of contingent principles, those principles which force 
belief, though without implying a contradiction, [in the denial of 
them,] and which are therefore not necessary, but irresistible, nat- 
ural beliefs, actual and primitive, instinctive ; such as the belief in 
the stability of the laws of nature, the perception of extension, &c., 
&c. 

Theory of principles truly contingent, neither necessary nor 
irresistible, but solely general. 

System of Empiricism ; of analysis, and its office. Refutation 
of Empiricism beyond the limits of the contingent. 

Theory of necessary principles. Of the characteristics which 
accompany that of necessity. That every necessary principle is 
a synthesis. Of synthesis opposed to analysis, and distinguished 
from identity. 

Questions concerning the enumeration of necessary judgments. 
Difficulty of the enumeration. That it has not been attempted by 
any philosopher before the 18th century. Leibnitz and Male- 
branche distinguish necessary truths from contingent truths, but 
without describing nor counting them. 
30* 



346 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

Historical Part. 
CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 

Reid and Kant, 

Exposition of the doctiine of Reid, concerning necessary truths 
or first principles. Constituent laws of the human mind. 

By his own admission, Reid has not exhausted them. 

Kant. Exposition of the Kantian necessary principles: the 
forms of the sensibility^ the categories of the Understanding and of 
the Reason, 

A complete list is not attempted in this course, but the attempt 
is made to describe with exactness the actual characteristics of the 
following principles : 

Principle of substance thus announced : every quality supposes 
a subject, a real being. 

Principle of unity : all plurality supposes unity. 

Principle of causality ; every thing which begins to exist, has 
a cause. 

Principle of final causes : every means supposes an end. 

Of the Primitive. 

Of the order of the deduction of human cognitions, and of the 
order of^their acquisition; of the rational or logical order, and of 
the chronological or psychological order. 

A knowledge is anterior to another in the logical order, in as 
far as it authorizes the other ; it is then its logical antecedent. 

A knowledge is anterior to another, in the psychological order, 
in as far as it springs up before the other in the human mind ; it is 
then its psychological antecedent. 

Hence the two-fold sense of the word primitive ; a knowledge 
may be primitive either logically, or psychologically. 

This being laid down, we are to examine whether our actual 
cognitions, both contingent and necessary, are primitive, either lo- 
gically or psychologically ; and if they are not, to ascertain the 
antecedents, logical or psychological, which they suppose. 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 347 

The Logical Primitive. 

Contingent empirical judgments have a logical primitive ; the 
certainty of a general principle rests upon that of the determinate 
individual facts of which it is the generalization. 

On the contrary, contingent, wo^eT/ipirxcaZ judgments, and neces- 
sary judgments, have not, and cannot have a logical antecedent ; 
no individual fact being sufficient to ground either the nei 
or the irresistible. J^^^ Llfijj^ 

V^ Ot TUB ^ 

Psychological Primitive, ff TJ TTTTT'EJlSi'] 

Both orders of contingent general judgmentsli6^fcjW|nr fmnj ^\i 
chological primitive in a determinate individual fact. ^^^^s^i. ^__r 

Necessary judgments have also their determinate individual psy. 
chological primitive; for nothing is originally given us under a 
pure and universal type ; but every primitive is individual and de- 
terminate ; now, every psychological primitive being a determin- 
ate individual fact, and every individual fact being a fact of the self, 
it is in the self, that is, in the modifications and individual determin- 
ations of the self, perceived by consciousness, that we find the psy- 
chological origin of all our knowledge. The self, the centre of 
the sphere of intelligence. 

But there is this difference between the primitive of an empiric- 
al contingent principle, and that of a necessary principle, — that the 
one has need of new individual determinate facts, more or less 
similar, and never identical — since they are all individual and deter- 
minate, in order to engender the contingent general principle, which 
is nothing else than the comparative result of a certain number of 
individual differences ; — while, to engender the necessary princi- 
ple, the determinate individual fact, which serves as its psycholo- 
gical antecedent, has no need of new facts, but already contains 
the principle whole and entire. In a word, contingent principles 
have their psychological primitive, the multiple in a succession of 
individual facts compared. Necessary principles have their 
psychological primitive in a single determinate fact. 

The knot of the difficulty and of the apparent contradiction 
which here presents itself, is in this truth, the basis of the intellec- 
tual system, to wit, that every individual fact is a concrete, com- 
posed of two parts, of which the first is eminently individual and 



S48 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

determined in itself; and the second, individual and determinate 
in its contact with the first, is nevertheless considered in itself, nei- 
ther individual nor determinate. 

Example. 

The energy of my will produces an internal movement* which 
it is not necessary here to describe with precision. 

This fact, individual and determinate in its totality, resolves it- 
self finally into two elements very distinct : first, an individual 
determinate will, that of myself; an individual determinate move- 
ment whose intensity is in proportion to that of the will and de- 
pends upon it ; — second, a relation of the movement produced, to 
the producing will. 

The first part of this fact, which embraces the determinateness 
of the effect and the cause, is personal and relative to the self; 
it varies with its two terms. It is the empirical part of the fact. 
When comparative abstraction collects under one point of view the 
successive differences of this empirical part, it composes from them 
a general idea, and the possibility for us of now applying this gen- 
eral idea to a certain number of particular cases, constitutes the 
actual contingent knowledge which we call a contingent general 
principle. 

But the second part of the fact, that is to say, the relation of 
such or such a determinate cause to such or such a determinate ef- 
fect, although individualized in the former part, is yet distinct from it. 
Vary the terms, the relation remains the same. Abstract all the 
individuality of the cause and of the effect ; yet the relation of cause 
and effect remains in the mind. This second part of the fact is 
the absolute part of it. 

Now, the moment the concrete and individual appear in my con- 
sciousness, I am not free to make or not to make an abstraction of 
its individuality ; this abstraction is made necessarily and inde- 
pendently of my will, and I have the notion of the relation of 
cause to effect, f 

* Movement, taken metaphorically, without relation to place, a working, 
internal effect, here of the will , and= volition. — Tr. 

t By the necessity of my intellectual structure, as a relation independent of that 
particular movement or phenomenon of consciousness, by occasion of which the 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN.ON LOCKE. S49 

This relation, which was contingent in the concrete, because it 
was attached to a determinate and therefore contingent cause and 
effect, is no sooner separated by abstraction from that concrete, than 
it appears to me absolute and necessary. 

As soon as I have the notion of the necessary relation of cause 
to effect, I have the actual necessary knowledge that : every fact 
which begins to exist has a cause, I have the principle of causal- 
ity, which is nothing else than the impossibility of not applying to 
all possible cases the notion obtained by abstraction from individ- 
uahty in the concrete. 

This abstraction is not the same with that which, in the forma- 
tion of contingent general knowledge, gives me a general idea : 
this latter proceeds by the aid of comparison and generalization ; 
it is comparative abstraction ; — the other proceeds by simple sepa- 
ration, and we therefore call it immediate abstraction. 

The process of immediate abstraction operates only upon a sin- 
gle fact, (at least it does not appear that the second gives any 
thing more than the first*) and takes place inevitably ; while the 
other has need of many facts in order to take place, its conditions 
of action, its limits, is progressive developement, — and finally, is 
voluntary. He who does not wish to compare will never gener- 
alize. This synthesis is arbitrary ; the other is necessitated. 

Such is the origin and mode of developement of all actual cog- 
nitions. 



understanding in virtue of its own proper activity and by its own laws, was led to 
conceive the principle of causality, as universal, necessary, and applicable to eve- 
ry possible movement and change. — Tr. 

*That is— to illustrate still by the notion of cause— in the first instance of a 
change observed by consciousness, the mirid as necessarily conceives the notion of 
cause, of the relation of cause to the effect, as in the second or the thousandth in- 
Btance ; — and in the second or the thousandth instance the mind can do nothing 
more than apply the same principle. Though this necessary process of the mind 
may become clearer to consciousness by reflection, yet it is as actually a necessary 
process in the first as in the thousandth case ; it is a necessary and universal 
law of the mind which acts in the first case as in the last; and its necessity and 
universality do not depend upon, and are not the result of many particular facts ; 
while those contingent general conceptions which depend upon comparison and 
generalization, require several observations, and derive their extension and com- 
parative universality from them. What is thus true of the principle of causality — 
the relation of cause to effect, as a necessary and universal law, given by immedi- 
ate abstraction in a single concrete fact, is true of all other necessary principles. — 
Tr. 



350 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

Table op the Contingent and the Necessary. 

Contingent. Necessary. 

1. Psychological Primitive. 1. Psychological Primitive, 

Individual fact, — Matter of the con- Individual Fact. — Concrete com. 

Crete — Succession of several indi. posed of an individual empirical part 

vidual facts. and of an absolute part. — No succea. 

Process. — Abstraction, comparison, sion. 
generalization. Process. — Immediate abstraction. — 

Result. — General idea. Elimination of the empirical part, and 

disengagement of the absolute. 

Result. — Pure notion of the abso. 
lute. 
2. The Actual. 2. The Actual. 

Possibility of applying the general Impossibility of not applying the 
idea to a certain number of cases, or notion to all cases, or necessary ab. 
general principle. solute principle. 

Contingent not-empirical principles are obtained by the same 
process as necessary principles ; the only difTerence is in the re- 
sults. We do not obtain the absolute nor the necessary in itselfj 
but the irresistible. 

We shall not endeavour to determine strictly the number and 
order of actual necessary principles, nor the origin of all those 
principles, nor their dependence, nor the different faculties to whose 
exercise they are attached. 

Nor shall we attempt to describe the primitive internal facta 
with all tjie circumstances which accompany them. 

Nevertheless we shall attempt to recognize the origin of the 
necessary principles of substance, of unity, of causality, and of 
final causes, because we particularly describe the actual character- 
istics of these principles, and because they embrace and constitute 
all intellectual hfe. 

Primitive Internal Facts. 

1. Affection or volition and in Elimination of the modification and 
general a determinate modification. — of the /. — Disengagement of the ab- 
Relation. — The /. solute relation of attribute to sub- 

ject. 
2. Succession of passions or volitions Elimination of the determinate plu- 
and in general determinate plurality, rality, and of the / identical and one- 
Relation. — The / identical and one. Disengagement of the absolute re- 
lation of plurality to unity, of succes- 
sion to duration. 
3. Voluntary fact and in general de- Elimination of the determinate ef- 

terminate effect willed Relation. — feet willed, and of the /. — Disen- 

Power and Willing of the /. gagement of the absolute relation of 

cause to effect. 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 351 

4. Intentional volition and in general Elimination of the means and of 

determinate direction of the volunta- the end determinate. — Disengage, 

ry power, that is to say, a determin- ment of the absolute relation of means 

ate means. — Relation. — Determinate to end. 
End. 

The principle of identity is connected with the principle of 
substance, as the principle of intentionality with that of causality. 

These two orders of principles have a primitive difference which 
consists in this, that the relation which connects the determinate effect 
to the determinate cause, the determinate end to the determinate 
means, is an apperception of consciousness, while the relation which 
connects the determinate modification to the 7, the determinate being, 
is not an apperception of consciousness, but an instinctive manifesta- 
tion of the principle of substance in the consciousness ; and so, also, 
the relation which connects the / identical and one to the deter- 
minate succession and plurality, is not an apperception of the con- 
sciousness, but an instinctive manifestation of the necessary prin- 
ciple of unity in the memory. 

The absolute, being before us, governs us primitively, in the ori- 
ginal action of the mind, (though without appearing to us primi- 
tively under its pure form,) and forces us to conceive at once, un- 
der any determinate quality, a determinate being, which is the I; 
a natural hypothesis.* But as soon as the relation has been 
suggested to us by the force of the absolute in a determinate 
primitive concrete, of which the self, 7, is one of the terms, it dis- 
engages itself from the 7, and appears to us under its pure form, 
and in its universal evidence which explains and legitimates the 
primitive hypothesis. It is the same in regard to the manifestation 
of the identity of self, by the principle of unity in the memory. 

The primitive manifestation of the existence of the 7, and of 
its duration in consciousness and memory by the absolute princi- 
ples of substance and of unity, is the primitive bond or link which 
connects Ontology to Psychology, and the first light which illumin- 
ates and discloses the objective in the subjective. 

* ^vkotiOtjui, suppono, to place under as a support, to take as the ground : — ^vicodeais 
gupposition, Tplacing under as the ground of the phenomenal. — Tr. 



352 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

OBJECTIVE SYSTEM. 
Ontology and Logic, 

External objects of knowledge ; means by which we attain them ; legiti- 
macy of those means. 

The Soul, Matter, and God. 
! The Soul 

The soul or the real substantial self [not merely the phenome- 
nal self, the / of consciousness] is objective : for it does not fall un- 
der the eye of consciousness. Examination of the opinion which 
makes the me a phenomenon or a succession of phenomena. 

The knowledge of the soul or of the self real and substantial is 
the result of the application of the principle of substance. 

Application primitive and not logical, which gives a being de- 
terminate, and real, the me; a primitive fact made up : 1. of an 
individual modification : 2. of a me, and 3. of a relation individu- 
alized in its terms, but which discovers to us a fundamental and 
essential relation between every modification and every being, by 
a disengagement of the absolute. Thus the adequate knowledge 
of the absolute principle gives us a knowledge of self, of theme, 
as an objective substance. 

The soul is a complex word which comprises, both the determin- 
ate real substantial me, the knowledge of which, without being 
£in apperception of consciousness, is a primitive conception, psy- 
chological and ontological, and the substance of the me, which, 
considered in itself and not as in any particular individual, is an ul- 
terior and purely ontological conception. 

The self is the part of the objective sphere which manifests it- 
self to us the first. It is the first step that we take beyond our 
consciousness. 

Identity and unity of the Soul, [the substantial!,] 

Manifested by a judgment of the memory, as the /, by a judg- 
ment of consciousness. 

Opinion which makes the identity and unity of the I a percep- 
tion of the consciousness, examined. 

The judgment of [personal] identity disengages and brings out 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 353 

the absolute relation of plurality to unity, of succession to dura- 
tion. Distinction between a primitive judgment conformed to the 
natural laws of all judgment, and a logical judgment starting from 
a logical and indeterminate principle, in order to arrive at a logical 
and indeterminate consequence. 

Matter, 

Two principles manifest it to us. 

The principle of causality and of intentional causality, — ob- 
tained in a primitive fact of consciousness, and become an absolute 
principle, — ^makes us conceive in certain cases external intentional 
causes. The intervention of perception which is not a principle, 
but an instinctive judgment, manifests to us, so to say, the mode of 
these causes, extension. The principle of substance gathered in 
the primitive fact of self, and become an absolute principle, sug- 
gests to us necessarily the conception of a real but indeterminate 
being under extension, and then extension appears as the quality 
of a substance which we call matter. 

External causes vary, that is, the qualities of matter ; but the 
principle of identity and unity gathered in the judgment of mem- 
ory, and become an absolute principle, necessarily suggests to us 
the conception of an identical being in the midst of the variations 
of these qualities, of a unity under this plurality, of a duration in 
which this succession takes place. 

Perception has been taken upon supposition, and not demon- 
strated, as a necessary intermediate. 

God, 

Experience withdrawing from matter the causality and inten- 
tionality which had at first been applied to it, and leaving to it 
only physical powers or forces, the principles of causality and in- 
tentionality remain, and, aided by the principle of unity, lead us 
to place the true causality and intentionality in a single supreme 
cause, which the principle of substance makes us conceive as a 
real and substantial being, that is, God. 

Legitimacy of the Means of Knowledge. 
In order to invalidate the certainty of the existence of the ob- 
jects of our knowledge, it has been said that the principles which 
give us these judgments, being only subjective principles, cannot 
have an objective authority. 

31 



354 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

Discussion of the Objective and Subjective* 

If, by subjective, be understood that which is relative to a par- 
ticular subject, and, by objective, that which is absolute, then it is 
not true that we obtain the objective by, subjective principles. 
For instance, what, in point of fact, is the principle of causality ? 
It is the impossibility of not applying to all possible cases (of 
change), the necessary relation of effect to cause. But we have 
obtained this necessary relation by abstracting it from the individ- 
ual, that is, the determinate subject. This necessary relation 
constitutes the necessary principle of causality. The principle of 
causality, therefore, supposes the non-relation to any particular 
and determinate subject whatever. Far from being a conception 
of the self, tt is an abstraction of it. The principle of causality is 
not, then, subjective, in the sense of being relative to a particular 
individual subject. When therefore this principle makes us con- 
ceive, e. g., the existence of God, we do not believe in the abso- 
lute on the faith of the relative, in the objective on the faith of the 
subjective ; but we believe in the absolute on the faith of the ab- 
solute, in the objective on the faith of the objective. 

The principles which give us external existences, give them 
therefore legitimately ; for the absolute legitimately gives the ab- 
solute. 

But if subjective be understood, as it is by us, to mean every 
thing which is internal, and objective every thing which is exter- 
nal, it is right to say that we believe in the objective on the faith 
of the subjective. But how would it be possible for us to know 
the external, but by an internal principle ? It is we who know. 
Now we are a determinate being, who knows only within himself, 
because his faculty of knowing is his own. No principle could 
make him conceive an existence, if it did not appear to his faculty 
of conceiving, that is to say, if it were not within him, if it were 
not internal. 

But this principle does not lose its authority, because it appears 
in a subject. Because an absolute principle falls under the con- 
sciousness of a determinate being, it does not follow that it becomes 
relative to that being : the absolute may appear in the determin- 
ate, the universal in the particular, the necessary in the contin- 



APPENDIX TO COUSIN ON LOCKE. 355 

gent, intelligent personality in the /, man in the individual, the 
reason in consciousness, the objective in the subjective. 

The first act of faith is the belief in the soul, and the last, the 
belief in God. The intellectual life is a continual series of beliefs, 
of acts of faith in the invisible revealed by the visible, the exter- 
nal revealed by the internal. 






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